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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29977953">Sketches On Music Sheets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dim_28/pseuds/dim_28'>dim_28</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drawing, High School, M/M, Music, Smut, Swearing, school libraries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:59:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>56,895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29977953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dim_28/pseuds/dim_28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' life is complicated. Louis is complicated. When you hide behind a busy life, full of busy, messy people, you become one of them so easily that you end up forgetting you ever even had a happy, wholesome life. When trauma chooses to stay, you can do nothing but take a huge step back and allow it to. When you meet someone who understands you and wants to save you, you don't actually have a lot of choices. In a normal world where teenagers go to school, play music and draw to cope, nothing can go wrong, right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. What The Actual Hell.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I started writing this story in December 2020, and I'm actually finished now, in March 2021! This feels so overwhelming, but to be honest, I feel mostly sad and excited. Thank you for reading if you do, and thank you if you decide to give me Kudos.</p><p>Huge thanks to Laney (or Caro, whatever) who helped me more than she could ever imagine by reading chapter after chapter with so much eagerness and yearning, she's probably the reason I didn't give up in the first place.</p><p>The school system I've chosen is a mix of the American and the English one, kind of complicated, but it's easy to figure out. Also, the ages are messed up; Fizzy is in Middle School, Gemma is only sixteen, Phoebe and Daisy are almost seven. </p><p>All of the characters in this fan-fictional story are fictitious and have, of course, nothing to do with the real, living or dead, persons they're named after. The story is fictional, and the names have been used for only practical reasons. This book was written because of my unconditional love for Louis and Harry and my unbearable need to cope by writing my messy thoughts down. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The beginning of the beginning.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake up because of the shimmering sun finding its way through the wide-open windows. I open my sleepy eyes, trying to adjust them to the bright light. My head hurts, it feels heavy against the pillow underneath it, and I try to remember what the hell happened last night. I suddenly feel someone's breath on my neck and I jerk away.</p><p>"What the fuck!"</p><p>Before I can even see the person, before I can even process what's happening, I lose balance and fall off the bed, right onto the hardwood, polished floor.</p><p>I let out a breathy "ouch" and my hand is fast to find the bottom of my back, rubbing it, trying to smooth the sudden pain.</p><p>I lay on the floor, head heavy, as I give myself a couple of seconds to take the room in. Where the heck am I? And then, that's when a head pops out of the bed, just right above my face. My eyes find a pair of green ones, surrounded by dark brown curls that are falling all over, not reaching my head, and suddenly it feels like this is all I can see.</p><p>"Who the heck are you?" I ask the familiar boy and stand up.</p><p>He is lying on the bed, white bedsheets half-covering his naked body. He looks at me with eyes so sleepy that they're almost closed.</p><p>
  <em>Naked body?!</em>
</p><p>Oh no. Oh shit. Oh, fucking shit.</p><p>I look down and gasp; I'm naked, too. My white skin is completely exposed to the sun, shivering, longing for warmth.</p><p>I immediately wrap one hand around myself, using the other one to grab a sheet and cover my body with it.</p><p>I walk over and sit on the bed. The boy is staring at me, eyes half-lidded, and I actually consider talking, but I have no idea what to say. I glare at him. I'm starting to recognise him, I know who he is. His name is Harry...Something. Harry Snowman?</p><p>Snowman?!</p><p>I look away, mentally slapping myself, blaming it on the hangover. Harry breaks the silence.</p><p>"Do you even remember a single thing from last night?" he asks, his voice harsh and full of sleep, just like his face.</p><p>I consider lying to him, but it doesn't sound really appealing, so I just shake my head and fix my eyes on the window in front of me. Everything seems and feels unfamiliar, and my memory is blank. I hate that. I never really drink, not that much, anyway.</p><p>I feel the bed shifting, and then the other boy's body's warmth is close to me again. I keep my tired eyes out the window, concentrating on my steady, loud breathing. My throat hurts a little bit.</p><p>"If you remember anything, let me know," Harry murmurs and I can't tell if his voice is playful, angry, or sad.</p><p>I look at his face this time and find no feeling there either. The boy is staring out the window too, his face neutral, and I suddenly feel the urge to punch him.</p><p>This is so so so fucking weird.</p><p>So I get up, grabbing my black, skinny jeans from the nightstand and putting them on quickly. I look around, my frustrated eyes trying to find my t-shit while my brain tries to remember what colour it was. They can't though, and I get angrier and more uncomfortable with every second that passes by.</p><p>Harry speaks again, reading my mind. "I'll find it and bring it to you at school," his voice is a whisper and I guess he's just too tired to speak properly, so I nod, sigh and walk to the door.</p><p>I get out, closing the wooden door behind me. My feet move against the red carpet that covers the floor fast and in a hurry; I reach the stairs. I look at the room before my eyes. People are sleeping on the three huge couches, red and blue cups are all over the place that-even though is extremely elegant-is so messy that feels more like a stable than a house. I kick some pizza boxes out of my way as I walk down the stairs and into the huge living room. I take a look around again, trying to find a familiar face; I don't, so I walk to the huge door and open it, getting out of the house, letting the chilly air burn my torso.</p><p>I take a few steps on the sidewalk and stare at the houses around me. I recognize the street; this is Niall's house, I know how to go home. So I sigh for what feels like the sixty-second time today, my fingers finding my messy hair and pulling the roots, trying to wake me up, trying to put my brain into place.</p><p>Ugh.</p><p>**</p><p>Okay. Let's start from the beginning; I remember stuff. I remember Zayn picking me up, I remember teasing him for acting all sad and miserable because Liam couldn't make it to the party. We arrived at Niall's house. I chatted with the boys from the football team for a bit and complimented Abby's makeup. And then I started drinking. And that's all. I actually remember walking up the stairs, looking for a bathroom, I think. I remember opening a half-closed door and finding a half-naked Harry putting his shirt on. After that, everything is a blur.</p><p>And there's no way we had sex. I'm straight. Aren't I? I've never thought about that.</p><p>I get up from my bed and walk to the closet. I look at the mirror, and there it is. A purple love bite decorating my exposed collarbone. My fingertips brush over it and the feeling of Harry's lips sucking my skin flushes through my veins for a second. I sigh and fall back on my bed. How the fuck did that happen?</p><p>There's a knock on the door and I groan a breathy "Get in!" before lifting my body to sit on the bed.</p><p>Fizzy gets in, her black hair falling playfully on her shoulders and I smile, momentarily forgetting the mess that is my life.</p><p>"Hi, beautiful," I say as she sits beside me on the bed.</p><p>She smiles and presses a kiss on my cheek. "Hi, Louis. Tired from last night?" she asks and I close my eyes pretending to be sleeping instead of answering.</p><p>She cackles and stays quiet for a long time, so I end up opening my eyes only to find hers fixed on my neck. The skin covered by the love bite burns under her judgmental stare. I bring a hand to hide it, but it's too late, and Fizzy's face is covered by a huge grin.</p><p>"Had fun, huh?" she says before I grab the nearest pillow and throw it at her. She screams and we end up laughing for a couple of minutes.</p><p>"Why are you all dressed up?" I ask her when our laughter dies.</p><p>Fizzy smiles. "That's why I'm here, actually. Can you give me a ride?"</p><p>"Where to?" I frown. Fizzy doesn't really...go out.</p><p>"Gemma's," she says and looks at me with puppy eyes; then her smile falls. "Mum's at work."</p><p>"Who's Gemma?" I ask, ignoring the mum part. Of course I'm going to give her a ride, but she's only fourteen and I should probably know where she is since our mom isn't responsible enough to do so. There should be at least one person in this house that cares about Fizzy, and I'd gladly be it.</p><p>"Oh, she's this girl I met. She's older, one year older than you or so, but I met her at a party and we hang out once in a while. She's really good, you'd like her."</p><p>Okay...?</p><p>I get up from the bed, grab a t-shit that lies on the floor, and put it on. I can still see the way she looks at the love bite and, to be honest, I feel both proud and awkward at the same time.</p><p>Proud because it'd been a while since I had sex and, even if I don't really recollect a thing, I feel like I had a good time last night. I'm all cheered up and playful, and my body feels happy. Today is a good day. On the other hand, it's awkward because that's a fucking boy I fucked. And I'm not homophobic, it's not the boy thing, it's because I thought I was straight. I am. Am I? This is so confusing.</p><p>"What's gotten into you?" Fizzy asks, smile wide.</p><p>"What?" I ask as we walk out of the house.</p><p>"You're too smiley," she says with a laugh and gets in the car.</p><p>"I don't know, I guess it's just a good day," I simply say and start the car.</p><p>We drive in silence, watching our small town waking up, people going out for a walk, drinking coffee, children running, and laughing everywhere under the surprisingly shiny sun. I love Doncaster so much.</p><p>Fizzy explains to me where the house is and it's not that I don't trust her, I hated it when people didn't mind their business when I was her age, but I'd really like to know more about this Gemma girl. I don't like being annoying though, but I go for it anyway.</p><p>"So...Gemma, huh? Do I know her?" I murmur awkwardly, keeping my eyes on the road.</p><p>"I don't think so. Gemma Styles? That's her last name. Her brother goes to your school."</p><p>The moment the words leave her mouth and reach my ears, everything goes blank. I hit the brakes so the car suddenly stops, forcing both of our bodies to collide with the dashboard.</p><p>"What the hell?!" Fizzy screams, voice panicked and shocked.</p><p>Harry Styles. Harry fucking Styles is the name of the boy.</p><p>"Nothing, I... I'm sorry," I whisper in shock and start the engine again, grateful there weren't any cars in front or behind us.</p><p>I don't spend any time thinking about the fact that my sister is best friends with Harry's sister. I don't. I try not to, at least. It's frustrating, and it makes my head dizzy.</p><p>After three minutes or so, we reach the house, and I stop the car, taking the building in. It's not as big as I imagined, but it's bigger than ours; there's a small garden covering the space from the fence to the front porch, beautifully decorated with flowers, and the windows are big and clean. The walls are beige and light, the front door wooden, stands tall.</p><p>Fizzy presses a kiss on my cheek and opens the door.</p><p>"Take care, yeah?" I say and she rolls her eyes before pushing the door closed.</p><p>A car passes by us and stops right in front of the house, parking easily and with no effort, as if the owner does this every day. The door opens and, of fucking course, Harry gets out of it, a plain white t-shirt covering his torso, and blue jeans hanging on his crotch. He locks the car and starts walking toward the house. He meets Fizzy on the way, they stop and chat for a bit, my blood is burning my veins, my pulse rate quickening. They start walking together then, mouths still moving, when they suddenly stop and their bodies turn around, facing my car. Fizzy's hand points at me and<em> oh shit</em>. No. Shit, no. Fuck, shit. No.</p><p>Harry's eyes lock with mine and they widen, his mouth ajar. I have no idea what to do. I just stare, hands on my lap, leaning back onto the driver's seat. Harry just stares back.</p><p>He is the first to turn around, hand pointing at the house, and they start walking again; I can feel Fizzy's wide smile without seeing her face.</p><p>I groan once they are inside the house, my head falling on the steering wheel. "Damn."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Why Don't I Just Hang Myself? Oh Right, Because I'm A Coward.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I fucked him!" I yell as I close the door and slip into Liam and Zayn's apartment.</p><p>Liam is sitting on the piano, and his fingers suddenly stop moving at the loud sound of my voice. Zayn is leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, eyes automatically moving from the screen of his laptop to me.</p><p>"What?", "Who?" they say in one voice and I sigh heavily, my feet dragging themselves to the couch where I let my body fall, exhausted. Mentally exhausted. Or physically. I can't tell.</p><p>"Harry. Harry Styles. That's who. Yesterday at this fucking party which, may I add, was so terribly boring that I got my ass so drunk to fuck a fucking boy's arse," I groan and my hand moves automatically to my hair, tugging and pulling, punishing.</p><p>"Oh?" is all Zayn says with a frown on his face, before walking towards the couch and sitting on my legs.</p><p>I give him a shooting glare, so he stands up again and sits on the piano bench next to Liam.</p><p>"Don't 'oh?' me, Zayn. This is really fucking serious. I'm not even gay, let's start from that," I scowl and close my eyes.</p><p>"Are you in denial?" Liam almost laughs and my eyes snap at him.</p><p>I stand up. "I have to be gay to be in denial and I'm not fucking gay in the first place!" I shout, throwing frustrated hands in the air.</p><p>"You fucking a boy sounds pretty gay to me," Liam says with a grin on his face, and Zayn's loud laughter echoes around the room.</p><p>"Louis," Zayn says in a calmer tone. "What Liam is trying to say is that your body, drunk or not, wouldn't be attracted to a boy's body if you weren't gay. It doesn't make sense. And you don't have to be gay. Maybe you're bisexual or pansexual, or whatever you are."</p><p>I groan and walk back to the couch. As I sit down, I bury my face into my hands and exhale loudly.</p><p>"What is wrong with being gay?" Liam asks, looking at me like I'm the funniest person in the world.</p><p>"There's nothing wrong with being gay!" I explain. "But I am not. Or at least that's what I thought. And the fact that Niall's party was so shit that I had to drink so fucking much is not my fucking fault so you better fucking-"</p><p>"Louis, language!" Zayn exclaims and Liam looks at him because he knows I'm going to kill him.</p><p>"I don't give a shit about the fucking language, Zayn," I say in a calmer voice and lie back.</p><p>I bury my face into my palms once again. "This is so messed up," I whisper against my skin the moment my phone rings inside my pocket.</p><p>I groan, fingers curling around the device and bringing it in front of my face. It's Fizzy.</p><p><b>Can you pick me up?</b> it says.</p><p>No, I can't fucking pick you up. Ugh.</p><p><b>If you can't that's okay, Harry offered to drive me home</b>, a second text arrives and I stand up immediately.</p><p>What the fuck is that?! They're besties now? Does he drive her places? Does she even know him?</p><p>"What is it now?" Liam's calm and steady voice brings me back to reality.</p><p>I hate how calm and steady Liam's voice is. I hate how funny Liam finds everything. I hate Liam. I hate everyone. My life is such a mess.</p><p>"Oh yeah, didn't tell ya," I begin, sarcasm clear in my voice. "My sister is besties with his sister, as well." The boys' eyes widen. "Yeah, of course, sisters-in-law. And as if that's not fucking enough I had to drive her to his place this morning. And now she wants to leave but, oh! guess what! Harry offered to give her a ride home in case I'm busy."</p><p>"Well...do you want to go there?" Zayn asks slowly, nodding his head, and that's a good ass question.</p><p>"I don't, no. But can you imagine Harry and Fizzy in a car? Alone? The boy I fucked yesterday and my beloved sister. No. No, ew. I'm picking her up."</p><p><b>I'm picking you up</b>, I type and close my eyes for a beat, trying to enjoy the peaceful moment.</p><p>"What if Harry told her?"</p><p>And...boom. My entire brain shuts off.</p><p>I open my eyes, wide and murdering, look at Liam and step closer to him and his boyfriend.</p><p>"What."</p><p>"I mean, I don't know, mate. I don't know him, but what if?"</p><p>"He wouldn't," Zayn's voice brings air back into my lungs.</p><p>I glare at him. "He wouldn't," I repeat, trying to convince myself. "Why would he?"</p><p>I take a few steps back and look at my phone.</p><p>"I have to go," I say. "Thanks for helping me out. You, Liam, especially." I point at him and he narrows his eyes.</p><p>**</p><p><b>I'm outside</b>, I type and watch as the blue bubble says 'Delivered.'</p><p><b>Come in</b>, Fizzy replies and my blood starts to boil inside my veins.</p><p><b>Why the fuck do you want me to come in?</b> I ask her, palms sweating and patience growing.</p><p><b>Hurt my foot</b>, the text says. <b>Gemma helped me put some ice on it but I can't really walk, I need your help.</b></p><p>I can hear my brain cells exploding. One after the other.</p><p>I sigh, my head falling forward onto the steering wheel. Again.</p><p><b>Ok</b>, I type and open the door.</p><p>I'm gonna get in, help Fizzy walk to the door, walk with her till the car and then we'll go home and the nightmare will be over. Not fucking interacting with Harry's family, not anything. I'm here to pick Fizzy up and that's what I'm gonna do.</p><p>I don't want to face Harry. Not after what happened last night, which I'm not even sure about. He knows though, and I don't, and I hate that. I'm not ready to face him.</p><p>It feels like forever till I reach the front door. It's freezing, the cold wind finds its way through my blue jeans and freezes my skin underneath. My hands are sweating though, my heart beating faster than it should, warming up my entire chest. I can hear every single beat so loudly that I take a few seconds to calm myself down, scared that other people will be able to hear it too.</p><p>My fist collides with the surface of the wooden door and I awkwardly clear my throat as I wait for someone to answer it. I'd rather be anywhere, literally anywhere, but here.</p><p>The door opens after a second, a tall, elegant, black-haired woman stands in front of me. She smiles, probably the warmest smile I have ever seen, and my entire existence flatters.</p><p>"Hi! You're Fizzy's brother, right?" she greets, voice kinder and sweeter than her smile.</p><p>I hate it.</p><p>"Yes, yeah, ma'am. I'm here to pick her up," I allow myself to say, voice almost a whisper.</p><p>But the woman doesn't seem to mind as she takes some steps back, letting me into the house. And it's perfect. Of fucking course it is. It's big and cleaned to perfection, tables and wooden surfaces shining under the bright light that comes from a chandelier hung on the ceiling. It's not one of these bitchy, spoiled, rich houses, though. It's welcoming and nice. It smells like home.</p><p>Fizzy is sitting on the couch, foot lying alongside the back pillows, comfortably stuffed in cushions. There's another brunette girl sitting on the arm beside her, laughing and talking, and I guess that's probably Gemma.</p><p>I take a few steps forward but stop when I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn around only to find the kind woman who opened the door for me. She's probably Harry's mother. My eyes run on her face, trying to take in how much they actually look alike. Her eyes look so much like Harry's; round, big and warm. Bewitching. The curves of her mouth remind me of his so much that I can actually see his mouth on hers.</p><p>And then the image of Harry coming all over his stomach pops into my mind, and my face falls and reddens as I fix my eyes on the wall behind the woman in front of me. Shock flashes through me as the image replays in my head a couple of times.</p><p>"I'm Anne, honey. Gemma and Harry's mother. You know Harry, right? My son? He's your age. You're at the same school?" her kind voice slaps me in the face and helps me come back to earth.</p><p>I fix my eyes on her kind ones again. "Yes, yes we are. Nice to meet you. My name is Louis, even though you probably know that already," I calmly say, managing to chuckle a little bit at the end.</p><p>Anne smiles. It's terrifying how much this woman does that.</p><p>"Good, Louis, good."</p><p>I nod and it's when I start walking toward Fizzy again, ready to drag her by the arm and get us out of this hellhole that looks like heaven, that I catch a familiar figure walking down the stairs. I turn my head instinctively. It's Harry. It's Harry with a fucking towel wrapped around his waist, and nothing more. His torso and legs are completely naked, curls dreamily crushing against his wet forehead like it's the most innocent thing on earth.</p><p>I am going to explode. I really fucking am.</p><p>Harry's eyes find mine and they lock in them, widening and darkening. Or softening; I can't tell. My stomach twists and I find it hard to breathe, feet rooted to their place.</p><p>I look away. Harry doesn't.</p><p>"Harry!" Anne exclaims excitedly. "Go get dressed. Louis is Fizzy's brother, you probably know him, you go to the same school!"</p><p>Harry swallows, I find myself watching again. "I do," he says with a smile, breaking the eye contact. "I do know him."</p><p>I look away from his body, half-lidded and dizzy eyes fixed on my sister now. "Fizzy, shall we?" I gesture to the door.</p><p>She smiles and nods, and Gemma helps her stand up carefully. They walk to me together. I wrap one arm around Fizzy's waist and use the other one to hold her hand who is wrapped around my neck for support. She smiles at me and I give her an awkward nod before looking away.</p><p>"Thank you so much, Anne. I had a great, great time. Accident aside. See you next week!"</p><p>Next week?!</p><p>"You're welcome, Fizzy dear. You and Louis can consider our house a second home for you," Anne replies warmly.</p><p>"Thank you, thank you a lot," is all I say before my eyes drift to Harry again.</p><p>He's all dressed now, a grey hoodie covering his torso, black sweatpants wrapped around his waist, and I can't move my gaze. He looks <em>good</em>. No, he doesn't.</p><p>I look away. Harry doesn't.</p><p>"We're leaving too, actually. We're gonna pick dad up from work and go grab some dinner," Gemma says, a huge smile covering her face.</p><p><em>She kind of looks like Snow White</em>, I can't help but think.</p><p>"We should go, then," Fizzy sighs and I start walking to the door.</p><p>I let go of Fizzy's hand to catch the doorknob; it clicks as I twist my wrist, and the cold wind creeps into the house.</p><p>"It was nice having you, darling," Anne repeats and Fizzy gives her a warm smile.</p><p>"Call me!" Gemma shouts just before I shut the door closed.</p><p>"Rude," Fizzy remarks, but I ignore her completely.</p><p>I walk to the car and help her sit in the passenger seat. She puts her seatbelt on as I walk to the other side of the car and open the door.</p><p>Harry's family gets out of the house the moment I grab the steering wheel. They start walking to their car. Harry's not with them.</p><p>"My jacket!" Fizzy snaps.</p><p>"What?" I frown, voice trembling because it's just so cold suddenly.</p><p>"I forgot my jacket in there," Fizzy explains, nodding toward the house.</p><p>This is not fucking happening.</p><p>I can hear the engine of Anne's car roaring in the background, and they pass by us sooner or later.</p><p>I get out of the car and take the biggest steps of my life to the front door. Deja fucking vu. I knock, not allowing myself to overthink it, and when Harry opens the door I can't help but fix my eyes on a huge bruise on his neck. It's not a bruise. It's a love bite.</p><p>"I...um...my sister forgot her jacket and...," I stop midsentence because Harry is taking steps back, allowing me to come in, just like his mum.</p><p>I nod and walk into the house, eyes immediately finding my Fizzy's jacket lying on the arm of the sofa. I walk over there and take it into my cold hands. Harry is standing in front of the closed door, watching my every move, and I can't tell if the urge to press him against a wall is because I want to punch his face or fuck him all over again.</p><p>"Did you...Did you remember what-"</p><p>"I did. Yes, I did."</p><p>He nods. I look away.</p><p>"Do you wanna talk-"</p><p>"I don't, actually," I snap quietly, as if I knew the question was coming. My voice came out harsher than I wanted, and I kind of regret it because Harry's face falls, leaving a blank expression on his face.</p><p>I hold back a sigh and start walking to the door. I stop, though, and take a step back because Harry gets in my way. What's with his mood swings?</p><p>I look into his eyes. They're green, clear green, it looks like a forest is hidden behind them, threatening to break through their thin surface and come out like a river of green tears.</p><p>His irises are fixed on my neck. I look down. The love bite. He's looking at his fucking love bite. He raises a hand and lightly caresses my skin. The touch burns, and I jerk away.</p><p>I don't say anything before walking past the other boy and then out the door.</p><p>Fizzy and I stay silent throughout the whole drive.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Conclusion: We Don't Like Jane Austen.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A sigh escapes my lips.</p><p>It's Monday and I'm in the library, trying to concentrate on my homework. I do that quite often. I always study here, trying to avoid the yelling and fighting at home.</p><p>It's 8 o'clock and Mr. Clark gave me the keys and left about two hours ago, leaving me alone to study for my exams. Mr. Clark is the librarian; a middle-aged man, in his fifty's, who's been responsible for the school library forever, and since I hang out here a lot we're kind of buddies. I really like him. I understand him.</p><p>My phone buzzes and I glare at it where it lays beside my textbooks. It's Zayn.</p><p><b>Wanna come over? :D</b>, the text says.</p><p>I grin and take the device in my hand.</p><p>Zayn has always had his way with people. He's outgoing and jolly and I love that about him. I love Zayn.</p><p><b>Can't bro :/ paper due tomorrow</b>, I text back and I feel so pissed because I could use a friend right now.</p><p>
  <b>It's okay. Love ya.</b>
</p><p>I smile wider and put the phone down. I really have to focus if I don't want to be here till the morning.</p><p>An hour passes by and I'm finally done. I'm putting my stuff in my backpack when the doorbell rings, announcing someone's entrance. I immediately flinch and turn around because, shit, I'm not supposed to be here at 9 at night; I don't want to put Mr. Clark in trouble.</p><p>"Oh," is all I say, standing up.</p><p>Harry stops dead in his tracks, caught off guard, and pinches the bridge of his nose awkwardly. "I... I'm sorry, I just wanted a book," he stutters, gesturing to the shelves behind my back.</p><p>"We're closed. <em>It's</em> closed. The library," I respond, my hands dully slipping into the pocket of my hoodie.</p><p>Harry nods. "I know, I know, but I was passing by and I saw the lights on and...okay." He turns around and heads for the door.</p><p>"Oh, Louis," he stops then, spinning around as if he remembered something. My name sounds so weird coming from his lips. He's standing five feet away from me sooner or later, hand dipped into his bag, searching for something.</p><p>I frown and patiently wait.</p><p>He finally finds what he was looking for, and as he brings his big hand out of his bag, it turns out it's my brown shirt.</p><p>Oh. <em>Oh.</em></p><p>"Oh," I breathe and reach out to take it in my hands.</p><p>Our fingertips touch slightly, and I look away.</p><p>"It's still dirty, though. Didn't wash it or anything. Mum would ask questions and I didn't know if you wanted me to tell her anything since your sister is friends with my sister."</p><p>Wait, what? "Dirty? I was wearing my shirt?" I frown.</p><p>The edges of his mouth lift up a bit. "Yeah, it's full of cum," he responds.</p><p>I grimace and carefully unfold the shirt only to find out that Harry is right.</p><p>"Why didn't I take it off? Why didn't you take it off me?"</p><p>"I don't know? I tried, I guess. I was just too busy," Harry's smile lights up the dim room.</p><p>And somehow my cock twists at that. I make a sound between a giggle and a scoff and start walking toward my stuff. I open my bag and make room for the t-shirt.</p><p>"So...what book do you want?" I ask once I'm done and start walking towards the shelves.</p><p>"<em>Emma</em>? Do you know it?" Harry's voice beams behind me. I can hear his heavy footsteps approaching me and he's sooner or later standing next to me in front of Section B. Fiction.</p><p>"Nah, I'm not really into books," I mutter indifferently.</p><p>Harry smiles. "'The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has no pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid'," he quotes, eyes sparkling.</p><p>I shake my head and roll my eyes. "I'm just not the reading type. I prefer being realistic," I explain and turn around to face the shelves again. "So? What is it about?"</p><p>Harry shrugs, huffing. "It's about this girl, Emma, obsessed with finding people's other halves, too occupied with other their love lives to mind her own. Until her life kind of turns upside down. She ends up getting married to her best friend."</p><p>"Ooh," I raise an eyebrow. "Did she love him?"</p><p>"She did, but, eh, they don't really make the perfect couple. She should have ended up with Frank Churchill. He was flirting with her but he was secretly engaged to a Jane Fairfax girl. Go figure, it's kind of a mess," Harry says and I find it quite exciting how much thrilled and moved he looks.</p><p>"So if you've read it, and more than once, I can tell, why do you want to read it again?" I can't help but ask him as my eyes run on the shelves, pretending to be searching for the book when in fact I don't even read the titles of the books, I just don't want to look at Harry.</p><p>"I don't know. I do that a lot. I read and then re-read and then read again. That's what I do. I miss the book," he shrugs.</p><p>"How can you miss a book?" I frown and turn to face him.</p><p>He's grinning, one shoulder against the shelves, holding his leaning body still, hands crossed on his chest. "How can you miss people?" he replies in a whisper.</p><p>I roll my eyes again. I kind of like flirty Harry; at least more than sleepy, half-drunk Harry.</p><p>"Author?" I ask him and turn to face the shelves.</p><p>"Jane. Jane Austen," he replies, finally taking his eyes off me and starting searching with me.</p><p>My eyes immediately fly to the shelf dedicated to Jane Austen. <em>Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, Pride and Prejudice, Love and Friendship, Emma. Emma!</em></p><p>"Found it!" I exclaim, excited that I managed to find it before Harry did. I reach out to take it, stretching my torso and raising my hand. Suddenly, it's higher than it seemed to be two seconds ago. Why are the shelves so damn many? I step on my tiptoes and try to reach higher, my fingertips touch the spine of the book but still can't reach it. "Shit," I whisper.</p><p>I can hear Harry's joyful giggling next to him. "Here," he says and steps behind me.</p><p>Back against chest, fingers against waist, breath against neck. Harry raises his hand only a little bit, reaches the book, and takes it into his hands. He doesn't move any farther, though. He stays there, still, breath heavy against my neck. I turn slowly around, lift my eyes and stare at him. Stare at green. I can hear the patterns of his breath louder than anything else; louder than my own heartbeat that's going crazy in my chest and ears. My breath catches, and I'm starting to feel dizzy again, palms sweating where they're deep into the pockets of my jeans.</p><p>I don't think I have ever looked in someone's eyes for so long. But I can't look away. I don't want to. It's bewitching. It makes me want to scream and shout and cry. Harry's eyes drive me mad; so green and so deep.</p><p>I look away. Harry doesn't.</p><p>A few minutes pass by, I stay trapped between the huge selves behind me and Harry's torso. I swallow and fight with myself, trying to hold back and don't look at his beautiful, dimpled, calm face.</p><p>Until Harry nods and takes a step back.</p><p>He nods and takes a step back and my body feels cold as if an electric shock ran brought it.</p><p>And just like that, he turns around and walks out the door.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Waiting For The Earth To Open Up And Swallow Me.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I close the blue door of my locker and look around. My eyes find Liam's in the crowd across the hall and I start walking toward him with big steps. I'm probably already late for my last period, but who cares.</p><p>"Hey," Liam greets and I give him a smile and a nod, my hands finding the pocket of my hoodie and sliding into it.</p><p>"What's up?" I ask as I lean against the locker next to him.</p><p>"I'm looking for Zayn," Liam says, glaring around. "What about you?"</p><p>"Geography class," I mumble, my eyes wandering around too, looking.</p><p>"Hey, about that Harry thing-"</p><p>"No, please, let's not talk about that," I stop him mid-sentence. "Been trying to avoid it."</p><p>Bullshit. It's been almost a week since that day in the library and that's literally the only thing my mind has been occupied with. It sucks, and I want to die. It's so exhausting, thinking about a pair of green eyes so much, all the time. It feels like there's nothing else that's interesting enough to think about, and sometimes I think that I simply need to see him one more time, just to convince myself that it's not a big deal. That his eyes are not as bewitching as my brain wants them to be. That his lips are not so full and round.</p><p>"Hey!" Liam waves a hand in front of my face. "Earth to Louis!"</p><p>"Have you seen Harry today?" is all I say, looking at the blue lockers on the wall across from us.</p><p>Liam frowns. "Didn't you just say that you don't wanna talk-"</p><p>"Just tell me," I snap without moving.</p><p>"I think I saw him leaving...?" he replies, but it sounds more like a question.</p><p>"Leaving? He doesn't have any more classes?"</p><p>"No? I guess?"</p><p>"So he went home?"</p><p>"I don't know? Probably? Why are you asking?"</p><p>I glare at him. "Nothing! Nothing, anyway," I mumble, waving a hand in front of my face.</p><p>We stay silent for a bit, watching the hallways emptying, kids running late to classes.</p><p>"Are you coming to the party?" Liam asks as he opens his locker again. He takes three books out and shoves them into his backpack.</p><p>"What party?" I frown. I'm kind of done with parties, to be honest. Enough parties for this year. Traumatised enough.</p><p>"Niall is hosting it. Like last week, at his place. It's gonna be fun! There's gonna be a fucking stripper!" Liam's eyes glow.</p><p>Why does he even want a stripper? Doesn't he have a boyfriend?</p><p>"Errr, I don't know, Li. It ended up pretty bad for me the last time," I press my lips together at the cringing memory.</p><p>"Hey, come on! I'll be there this time, making sure you're alright and not doing anything stupid," he begs, grinning. "Won't let you near Harry, promise. Scout's honour."</p><p>"I don't knooooow, Liam," I groan throwing my head back. "Plus, I have studying to do."</p><p>"No. You'll be there. Shush. Zayn and I will pick you up at seven. Be ready," he commands, waving a finger.</p><p>I chuckle. "Sure, okay. Okay, deal," I give in and he smirks satisfied.</p><p>Zany comes up to us a couple of minutes later and we end up hanging out at their place.</p><p>**</p><p>I groan.</p><p>It's 6:30 and I'm standing in front of my drawers trying to find something decent to wear. There is almost nothing clean and I'm so mad at my mom for not being a fucking normal mom who cleans the house and uses the fucking washing machine. This is bullshit.</p><p>I grab a black button-up and a pair of blue jeans. I put some gel on my hair and look at myself in the mirror. I don't really care about my appearance, but I want to look nice. I'm also bored. And anxious. And nervous.</p><p>The horn of Zayn's car beams from out the window, so I grab my jacket and get out in the hallway. I walk past the kitchen, paying no attention to my mother, and stand in front of the door.</p><p>"Louis! Are you going out?" her voice is sad and low, and I stop moving, hand hanging on the doorknob.</p><p>"Yeah!" I shout. "Can you maybe get some clothes cleaned? My closet is literally empty, mum."</p><p>I can hear her sighing as she walks out the kitchen and stands in front of me, hands crossed across her chest.</p><p>"Yes, sure, I'm sorry, honey," she whispers. "Have fun."</p><p>Oh. Okay...? That's weird.</p><p>"Do you want me to drive you?" she continues, eager.</p><p>What the hell?</p><p>"No? No. Zayn and Liam are here to pick me up," I press my lips together and look around the room uncomfortably.</p><p>"Okay, sure. Have fun," she repeats.</p><p>Am I fucking dreaming? She's not moody today? She isn't going to yell at me? Even try to hit me? It's strange.</p><p>"Thanks, mum," I mumble quietly and get out.</p><p>The sky is grey and cloudy today, it'll probably rain in less than an hour.</p><p>Zayn and Liam are parked in front of the house, waiting, pretending to be holding microphones and singing some rap song.</p><p>"Hey, yo, Louis! Let's go!" Liam screams from the passenger seat and Zayn cackles next to him.</p><p>I smile at them and walk to the car. It's freezing outside, so when I get inside and close the door behind me the hot air coming from under the seats hits me and warms me up, giving me chills.</p><p>"On our way to have fun!" Zayn shouts as he starts driving.</p><p>"Yoohoo!" Liam screams in response and a laugh escapes my lips.</p><p>Well, shit.</p><p>**</p><p>"Easy there, Horan!" I laugh as Niall pours me another glass of tequila.</p><p>Blue and purple strings of light fly above our heads and I feel heavy and dizzy. It's been twenty minutes since we arrived and I'm already drunk? Where the heck is Liam?!</p><p>"Live while you're young, Tommo!" Niall screams with a burst of loud laughter and I cover my ears.</p><p>I bring the blue cup to my lips and open my mouth when my eyes spot Liam dancing in a corner of the huge room. Zayn is standing next to him, watching him with a fond smile across his face.</p><p>"Liam!" I shout and start walking towards them. "I lost you, mate. And now I'm drunk! Look at me! A mess!" I whine, pressing my free hand against his shoulder.</p><p>Liam cackles. "Sorry, mate. Are you alright?"</p><p>I take a deep breath. Mhm, I'm just fine.</p><p>"Beer pong!" Niall's voice echoes in my ears and I immediately jump up.</p><p>"Beer pong!!" I scream like a child. "Stay with your pretty boyfriend, Li, I will entertain myself."</p><p>I turn around and start walking towards the table.</p><p>Apparently, I'm late and have to wait till the next round so I just sit in a chair and watch the lads playing. I doze off at some point, I think, because Niall wakes me after a bit, asking if I'm still up for the game. I nod and get up, my head feeling less heavy and my feet more steady.</p><p>Good. I'm good.</p><p>Until I spot Harry with a ping pong ball in his hand talking to Zayn. He's not gonna play, is he?</p><p>Zayn and Liam are standing in front of a pyramid of cups and Harry is all alone at the other side of the table.</p><p>"Come on, Louis," Niall calls.</p><p>"But Zayn and Liam are together. We can't play three versus one," I state, stomach twisting as I feel Harry's eyes on me.</p><p>I don't want to have anything to do with this boy. He can stay away. I don't even like him. With his curly hair and green eyes and all.</p><p>"You're playing with Harry! You know Harry right? He's my best mate," Niall exclaims and my eyes widen in frustration.</p><p>I'm so not playing with Harry.</p><p>"I don't know Harry, no," I say the same time Harry says "Yeah, we know each other."</p><p>Our eyes lock and Harry makes a confused face when I roll my eyes.</p><p>"Fucking fine," I mumble and walk to stand next to Harry.</p><p>Niall is blind drunk though, so he doesn't press the topic any farther.</p><p>Me and Harry go first, and I make sure Liam and Zayn's cups are entirely full with beer before walking back to stand next to Harry. I hand him the white, round ball</p><p>"You go first," I elbow him without even looking at him.</p><p>He nods and straightens his arm slowly, repeating the movement a couple of times before taking a quick breath and standing very still. He closes his one eye and the next second the ball is flying across the table. It goes in.</p><p>"Yes!" Harry exclaims but I ignore him.</p><p>I wait for Zayn to chug down the beer in the cup Harry threw the ball in, and then take the other ball into my palm and shoot carefully. It hits the table and then flies straight into the first cup.</p><p>"Yes! Remove two! That's two caps, it hit the table!" I shout, pointing at them.</p><p>Liam laughs and shakes his head as he takes the cup with the ball in it in his hands. He looks at the rest of the cups and grabs one more, because he knows I'm gonna kill him if he doesn't, and gives it to Zayn. They drink the liquor faster than usual.</p><p>It's their turn and Zayn plays first. It goes out.</p><p>"Ha!" I grin. We're good.</p><p>"You are really competitive," Harry declares, taking the small ball into his hand.</p><p>"If you lose he will kill you, trust me," Zayn informs him with a huge grin.</p><p>"We're not going to lose," I say through my teeth. "Right, Styles? Now go."</p><p>Harry glares at me once more and smiles before getting back in the game. It goes in again.</p><p>He gives me a smirk to which I roll my eyes as a response, trying to ignore his dimples and the way his lips curl so perfectly that it's almost impossible to resist leaning in and kissing them.</p><p>Time goes by really fast, and I drink more and more and more. Everything is moving, but I ignore it and keep playing, focused on yellow little balls that fly across the big table and land in red caps. I'm having fun. Harry can be funny, too. Sometimes. Sometimes.</p><p>"Louis! Hey, Louis! If you get this we win," Harry screams, grabbing me by my shoulders to keep me steady on my feet. He's looking at me straight in the eye and I swear to God, his eyes are sparkling under the colorful lights above our heads. "If. You. Get. This. We. Win. W-i-n," he spells and I roll my eyes.</p><p>I'm smiling, though. A small, drunken smile that Harry has his eyes fixed on.</p><p>"I'm not a baby, Harold. I got this," I smirk and turn around. I focus my eyes on the cup.</p><p>I jump a little, slap myself, and clap my hands together to wake my brain up. Come on. Come on. I let out a heavy breath.</p><p>The ball bounces on the table and I literally watch in slow motion as it crushes inaudibly against the edge of the cup, rolls slowly over it and then falls in.</p><p>It goes in. It's in!</p><p>"YES!" I shout and jump up.</p><p>"Yeeeesssss!" Harry yells next to me and I turn around to face him.</p><p>His cheeks are red and his lips so, so, so pink.</p><p>"Yes, Louis! Fuck, we won!" he screams in my face.</p><p>And I jump. I jump into his arms. I bury my head in his neck, inhale his perfume and laugh so loudly that I can feel the goosebumps that arouse on the other boy's skin. Harry grabs my hips so I won't fall.</p><p>What?</p><p>My eyes widen and I immediately jerk away, forcing Harry's hands to fall off my unsteady body. My numb feet collide with the floor and...ouch.</p><p>Harry's cheeks are flushed and red, his lips swollen from the number of cups he's pressed against them, and his curls out of place, falling on his forehead and ears. I look at him, unable to find any hint of any feeling on his face. He looks...surprised? Confused, even.</p><p>And I'm shocked and way, way too drunk.</p><p>So I do the only thing I know really well how to do.</p><p>I turn around in dazed, blurry movements and start walking away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Life Totally Gave Me Lemons This Time.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cold water splashes all over my face. I grab the pink towel on my left and swipe it across my face before looking at myself in the mirror. Throwing up sucks.</p><p>Note to self: Don't drink. Ever again.</p><p>I run a hand through my hair and groan as my foot collides with the sink.</p><p>I didn't do that. I didn't fucking jump on Harry's arms. It was a dream. A nightmare.</p><p>I sigh, a heavy, fucking depressed sigh, and grab the doorknob. The music reaches my ears again once I step into the hallway. Voices are louder and clearer now, and all I need is a fucking break.</p><p>I rest against the wall of the hall, head falling back, eyes closed. I could just drift off and sleep, right here, right now.</p><p>I hear a quiet noise and open my eyes slowly, too tired to move faster. I nearly lose it when I see Harry leaning against the wall across me. His eyes are closed and his face is peaceful, as if he's sleeping. I need a minute to take his face and characteristics in; long, elegant eyelashes caress his cheeks. His smiley mouth is round, ajar and even, fits perfectly his pink cheeks and nose. He looks good. Too good. One of his eyes opens and I roll mine, looking away.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" I ask him.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" he grins.</p><p>"I asked first."</p><p>"And I asked second."</p><p>"That doesn't even count."</p><p>"It does to me."</p><p>"Fuck you, Styles."</p><p>"Again? You're so needy." There's a sweet, silly smile on his sweet, silly face.</p><p>"Ugh! Just fuck off."</p><p>We stay silent for a bit, eyes closed and thoughts flying around. I listen to Harry's heavy breath breaking the wild noises from downstairs. I focus on it and calm down, slowly and peacefully.</p><p>"I better get going," I mumble after a while. I'll really fall asleep here if I don't move soon. I open my eyes and look at Harry. He's already looking.</p><p>I nod to myself and turn around, ready to take off, when Harry's fingers wrap around my wrist and bring me right in front of his body. It's warm, and I get flashbacks from the day in the library. Harry's grip tightens, bringing me closer. He leans in. His nose touches my jaw and caresses it; it's slow and elegant and I find myself closing my eyes and leaning into the cold, shivery touch. His breath moves closer and closer to the skin on my cheek, and his fingers let go of my wrist only to find my neck and press against it, the same moment his tongue presses and swipes across my half-open mouth. I gasp quietly, knees buckling underneath me.</p><p>"What the heck!" a loud voice echoes from the end of the hall just before a half-naked guy rounds the corner and starts running toward us.</p><p>I take a step back when I realise he's getting too close, and he hits my shoulder as he runs past me, almost tripping over Harry's long feet that stand in his way. My eyes follow him till he's out of sight, still yelling random words, and I let my gaze fall to the ground when I can't see him anymore.</p><p>Once he's gone, it's silent again.</p><p>"I'm sorry, I..." Harry mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.</p><p>He's interrupted by my fast movements, my fingers wrap around the collar of his shirt and pull him down; cold lips colliding with his. A warm shiver runs down my legs. Harry doesn't respond immediately, I can feel his eyelashes caressing my cheeks as he blinks rapidly, trying to comprehend what's happening. He moans after a few seconds, starts to follow my lead, and presses me against the wall behind my back.</p><p>He takes his lips off mine sooner than I want him to and leads them to bite the sweaty spot under my ear. I almost gag, feet feeling weak and stomach twisting, eyes closed but seeing colours instead of darkness, as Harry's warm and wet tongue continues to work on my skin, pressing, licking gently. I can't stop the moan that escapes my mouth and I can actually feel Harry hardening against my thigh.</p><p>This can't be fucking happening. Again. We're literally getting off each other in a goddamn hallway.</p><p>But Harry's lips are warm against my skin and my knees tremble as he hardens and hardens and hardens. So I don't move. I don't stop him. I can't.</p><p>His lips stop moving on my neck and he stays still, breathing heavily against my skin, his grip on my wrist burns, and my stomach twists, and I know he simply wants my permission to keep going. So I give it to him.</p><p>"Don't-<em>fuck-</em>don't stop," I moan against his shoulder.</p><p>He comes closer again and grabs my waist with both of his big hands, pinning me harder against the wall behind me. He leans in once more and licks my collarbone, making a whine escape my needy lips. His leg presses against my thighs, separating them under his soft movements and pulling his body even closer to mine. His one hand lets go of my waist and moves slowly to my crotch. His fingers find my cock, wrap around it over my jeans, and tug.</p><p>I moan into his neck again and again and again. Until my knees start to shake and my pulse quickens so much that I can barely feel it; I come from Harry's tongue and grip on my burning skin.</p><p>I breathe unsteadily and loudly against his neck for a couple of seconds until I take a tiny step back, too afraid that if I go too far away, I'll have to pretend this wasn't great.</p><p>I look at Harry. Harry looks at me. His cheeks are flushed and his hair messy, he looks like he's the one who just got off. I lower my gaze at my crotch and almost gasp when I see there's cum everywhere. It's there, all over my jeans, and I want to bang my head into a wall. I run my hand through my hair and when I look back up, Harry is gone.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Dear God, Not Again.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I'm lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. I can hear my mother yelling at the twins, but I don't move. It's a blurry sound in the back of my head that all it does is keep me awake. I have to stop her, but I'm too tired to do so. I should, though. I should because this is unbearably fucked up. It makes my stomach twist.</p><p>"Mum," I whisper, grabbing tightly the corner of the wall I'm half hiding behind.</p><p>My mother stops yelling but doesn't turn around to face me. The twins are sitting on the couch, crying quietly, almost shaking, and I'm pretty sure they did absolutely nothing. I look away, forcing my eyes to look at the wall behind mum.</p><p>"Go back to your room, Louis. Like you always do," her voice is rough and raspy.</p><p>I close my eyes and swipe a hand across my exhausted face. I can't deal with this, too. I'm not even supposed to.</p><p>"Mum, please, just leave the twins alone, please. Go take a walk or something," I say calmly and seriously. She has to calm down, she really has to. Before it gets out of hand.</p><p>"No, you take a walk."</p><p>"Mum, stop acting like a fucking baby, I'm not leaving you alone with the twins," I say through gritted teeth, pointing a finger at her.</p><p>"What's wrong?" Lottie enters the living room, eyes worried, wandering around.</p><p>"Mum's moody again," I whisper and her face falls.</p><p>"Oh," she says. "Daisy, Phoebe, wanna go out for a walk?" She manages a smile as she turns to the twins.</p><p>The girls nod, stare at mum once more, a terrified, panicked stare that doesn't last more than two seconds, before they stand up and walk toward Lottie. They put their coats on and leave as soon as possible. Wonderful. What a lovely family.</p><p>"Where's Fizzy?" I ask Lottie just before she gets out.</p><p>"Gemma's," is all she says, nodding and closing the door behind her.</p><p>Gemma's. Of fucking course. The world will be falling apart and Fizzy will be hanging out with her new awesome bestie.</p><p>"Mum," I sigh once we're alone, closing my eyes and trying to not yell at her or sound too mean and mad. This is frustrating. A blurry pain takes over the top of my head. "Mum, you cannot treat the twins that way. They're not even seven. You can't yell at them and tell them all this shit! It's traumatising, take it from me."</p><p>She looks at me like she doesn't even care, like she isn't paying attention to a word I'm saying.</p><p>"Your father...," she begins, eyes fixed on the floor.</p><p>"I don't care about my father! He left, mum. He's gone. You have to get over it like the rest of us did," I groan in frustration.</p><p>"Not Troy. Not him. Mark. I'm talking about Mark," she breathes angrily. There's a hint of pain behind her vexed tone that I know too well.</p><p>And I am so so so so tired of this mess. I want to hide somewhere and escape. I want a safe place. I need a safe place.</p><p>"No! He left, too! What do you want?! Why do you keep doing that?" I shout, my eyes watering and voice breaking.</p><p>She opens her mouth again but no. No. I have to leave this place now. Before it's too late.</p><p>"No. Shut it. It's over," I growl and rush to the door.</p><p>It's so fucking cold outside but I don't care, I had to leave, I had to give her some time.</p><p>**</p><p>My fist collides with the hard surface of the wooden door and it feels like I've done this way more many times than I should. But I had nowhere else to go, and my feet led me here on their own.</p><p>No response comes from the other side of the door so I simply grab the doorknob and carefully twist it under my palm, getting into the house. There's no one in the kitchen or living room so I head up the stairs, looking around as I get higher, examining the place around me. There are pictures hung all over the walls; family pictures, postcards, school certificates. I chuckle when I see one of baby Harry, naked in a bathtub. There's Gemma too, and I find himself staring at family pictures for more than I should.</p><p>"Hey," a familiar voice makes me flinch.</p><p>I turn around. It's Harry. He's standing in front of an open door that was close a few seconds ago for as long as I remember. I guess I was just too deep into my own thoughts that I didn't even hear it click open.</p><p>"Hey," I nod, my hands sliding into the pockets of my jeans. "Um...is my sister here or something?" I ask, pointing at the closed doors around the hall.</p><p>"Have you been crying?" is all Harry asks.</p><p>"What?" I ask, caught off guard.</p><p>Harry comes closer and raises slowly a hand to my face. He lifts my chin up, his index finger slightly pressed against my jaw, his thumb almost caressing my cheek. The soft touch burns my skin in a weird and almost addicting way, but I don't move.</p><p>"Your eyes are red and your cheeks wet and why are you so cold?" Harry rambles, frustrated and...worried? his eyes searching my face.</p><p>It's kind of like my skin is in shock, electricity shooting from Harry's skin to mine. I take a step back and look away. Harry doesn't.</p><p>"I'm okay," I whisper, wiping my cheek with the back of my palm.</p><p>"Fizzy and Gemma went out. For lunch, I suppose," he replies quickly, fingers scratching the back of his neck.</p><p>"Oh. I should go, then. Tell her to call me when they get back."</p><p>Harry nods and walks down the stairs with me. His steps thud loudly behind me, joining the unsteady beating of my heart.</p><p>"You can stay here and wait for her if you want," his voice comes out as a calm whisper in a noisy storm, murmuring behind me.</p><p>I can't really tell if it's a question or a simple suggestion.</p><p>"Do you really think that's a good idea?" I half-smile as I stop walking and turn around to face him.</p><p>A soft chuckle escapes his mouth, tempting and joyful dimples making their appearance. "I mean...I don't know? Saturday night was wild and...weird. I don't know why I did what I did. But still, you can stay, make yourself comfortable. It's been a few hours since they left anyway, so they'll be back soon." His eyes search worriedly my face.</p><p>I can feel I'm blushing, because Harry mentioning the party didn't even cross my mind, so I look over my shoulder for a bit and lick my lips in an attempt to calm my feelings down.</p><p>"Okay," I breathe and walk over to the couch.</p><p>"Do you want to drink anything? Are you hungry?" Harry asks from the kitchen.</p><p>I am very hungry. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning and that's a fucking lot.</p><p>"Some water would be okay, thanks," I shout back in a calm voice and lounge on the couch.</p><p>Harry comes back after a minute or so with a glass full of water in his hand. He gives it to me and then sits on the couch across from the one I am.</p><p>"How old is Gemma?" I ask him before I sip on my water, trying to make conversation.</p><p>"Sixteen," he replies simply. "She's two years younger."</p><p>I nod. This is so awkward. I should have known better than to agree to stay.</p><p>"You know what? I think they're gonna be late so I'll just-" As soon as the words leave my mouth, the front door clicks open, and Fizzy and Gemma get in, giggling and talking in high-pitched voices.</p><p>"Louis!" Fizzy exclaims as soon as her eyes land on me.</p><p>"Hey, came to pick you up," I smile, nodding at Gemma who gives me a warm grin as a response.</p><p>"Is everything alright?" she asks with a frown; her hands stop taking her coat off her shoulders.</p><p>I look around awkwardly. "Erm, no, actually. It's mum," I mumble.</p><p>Her eyes widen. "What's wrong with mum?" she asks, walking up to me and reaching out for my hand. I give it to her and glare quickly at Harry and Gemma who are looking at us, worry clear on their beautiful faces.</p><p>"Nothing. She's okay. She just...freaked out, again. She started yelling at the twins."</p><p>"Oh no," she breathes and buries her face into her hands.</p><p>"We should go," I say, looking away from her disappointed face, trying to ignore Harry's glare that watches me and burns every single inch of my body.</p><p>"Do you need a ride?" Gemma offers in a velvet voice.</p><p>I walked here, too frustrated and hurried to take the car keys; we actually do want a drive. It's cold outside, I don't want Fizzy to be cold.</p><p>"I'll drive you," Harry says before I even give them an answer. He walks to the door and grabs the car keys from a small table beside it in fast movements, as if he's nervous all of a sudden.</p><p>"Okay," I agree, surprising everyone, including myself.</p><p>We have to go home though, and we can't walk there. It's not far, but it's cold, and I shiver again at the thought of having Fizzy walk in the freezing air.</p><p>"Okay," I repeat, voice lower, and walk over to the door. "Thanks."</p><p>Harry just nods, not looking at my face, and glares at Gemma once more before getting out of the house.</p><p>This is gonna be fun.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Blue Eyes.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">harry<em>.</em></span>
</p><p>I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and turn my head to look at the backseat. Fizzy is there, belt on, eyes fixed on Louis who is currently walking towards the car, looking like the moment he'll close the door and get in a huge monster will appear and eat him alive.</p><p>God.</p><p>Once he's in the car, I start the engine and slide elegantly into the road. I like driving; I should do it more. We all stay silent while we drive past houses and houses, only Fizzy's whispery voice breaks through the quiet to tell me where I should go when there's a crossroad.</p><p>"Where are the twins?" I hear her asking quietly at some point, voice calm and even.</p><p>"With Lottie. They went on a walk, left me alone with mum to calm her down," Louis replies and he sounds more stressed and frustrated than he usually does.</p><p>I glare at him through the rearview mirror; he's looking down at his lap, his cheeks are flushed from the cold, and his lips a gorgeous shade of purple. He must be really cold.</p><p>They stay silent for a beat, Fizzy's face becomes more worried and frustrated with every quiet second that passes by. The calming roaring of the engine soothes the tight tension inside the car.</p><p>"Did she hit you?" Fizzy asks after a while, and it takes me a second to understand what she means. She said it like it's the most normal thing on earth, and my foot immediately collides with the brake in shock, forcing the car to stop brutally. Two sets of wide eyes snap at me through the rearview mirror.</p><p>"Sorry, it was...there was a dog," I mumble and fix my eyes on the road again as I start driving.</p><p>"No. No, she didn't. It's been a while since the last time, Fiz. I don't think she'll ever do it again," Louis replies and glares at me through the mirror. Our eyes meet, and he looks away. I don't.</p><p>"Go left," Fizzy's voice instructs, reminding me to turn my eyes back on the road.</p><p>"You have to be careful, though," she whispers, worried.</p><p>As she should be. Their mother hits them? She hits Louis?! She used to hit Louis?!</p><p>He makes a sound between a sigh and a groan. Whatever it is, it sounds hopeless and slightly miserable, and I find myself looking at him through the small mirror above my head again.</p><p>"You and the girls have to be careful, Fizzy. I'll be just fine," he replies, and silence takes over again.</p><p>I look forwards and drive till I get them home.</p><p>Their house is white and pretty, a huge tree scratching the bricks on the high roof. It's nice. It looks safe and warm, something that I have come to the conclusion that it isn't.</p><p>Fizzy sighs and opens the door. "Thank you, Harry, really," she smiles. "See you Friday."</p><p>I smile back at her, the kindest smile I have, and nod.</p><p>She gets out and looks at Louis. He doesn't move.</p><p>"Go," he tells her. "I'll come in a bit."</p><p>Fizzy looks surprised and curious, but shuts the door inaudibly and heads for the house.</p><p>I turn around, shifting into the driver's seat. Louis looks at me thoughtfully, but I can't tell what he's thinking. Then again, I never can.</p><p>"Have you told her anything?" he asks and sits back on the seat.</p><p>"What? No, why?" I respond. Did he really think I would?</p><p>"Just wanted to know," he shrugs. His eyes are fixed on his lap, where his fingers are playing with a thread hanging from his grey hoodie.</p><p>"Do you want me to?" I ask before I can process the question in my brain.</p><p>His eyes move so fast that I don't even see it; blue, burning irises on mine. "Please don't," he whispers and leans in.</p><p>I want to ask him if that's because he's ashamed. I want to know if he regrets what happened or if he just doesn't want Fizzy to know because she's friends with my sister. I want to ask him why he is so hard to read, or why he doesn't straight away say what he wants to say. I want to ask him if he's okay and why does his mom hit him or hurt him. I want to ask him a lot of things.</p><p>"I won't," is all I say, voice a whisper, almost a breath.</p><p>He's leaning in, his face almost a foot away from mine, and I know that if I close my eyes and concentrate I will be able to hear his breath. I look into his eyes. They're blue, a shade of blue that's crystal clear and shady at the same time. It reminds me of the sky when it's about to rain, and I'm pretty sure that if souls had a colour, that would be it. That's what a soul would look like. The atmosphere is heavy and calm, I wonder if he can feel the tension, too. He makes me feel so weirdly comfortable and easy. His cold behaviour makes everything feel so complicated, but I know that deep down he can feel what I feel; a strange kind of hospitality. As if I can be whoever I want around him.</p><p>For a moment I feel like he's going to lean down, climb on my lap and kiss me; maybe it's simply because I wish he would. He doesn't, though. He just nods (he does that a lot, I've noticed) and opens the door. He starts walking towards the house but stops just before his feet step on the porch. He turns around quickly, his eyes on mine again.</p><p>"Hey, thanks!" he says, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie.</p><p>I don't know if he means the drive or the fact that I haven't told Fizzy anything, but I don't say anything, just watch him getting into the house before I take off.</p><p>**</p><p>When I get back home I sit with my parents for a bit and then go straight to my room.</p><p>I get a text from Niall around 5 p.m.</p><p>
  <b>Party at my house tomorrow night.</b>
</p><p><b>Isn't it like, Thursday? You know, a school day? </b>I ask him, even though I'm sure he doesn't really care. If everything on earth disappeared and parties were still a thing, Niall would be the happiest man in the world.</p><p><b>I'm pretty sure it's Friday mate. But still who cares? </b>he replies and I can hear his voice inside my head as my eyes run over the text.</p><p>I cackle and lie on my bed. <b>Okay, I'll probably be there</b>, I type and put the phone down. I don't have anything planned for tomorrow, and parties are fun, as long as I don't get too drunk.</p><p>My phone's screen lights up after a minute or so. <b>My honour.</b></p><p>I laugh again and then simply fix my eyes on the ceiling; thoughts of blue eyes, grey hoodies, and 'thank you's flying around the room, keeping me company.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Why Is Life So Damn Complicated, Part 567.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">louis.</span>
</p><p>When me and Fizzy get in the house, mum is gone. I kind of think it's better that way because even if it's been almost an hour since the fight she wouldn't be totally calm. I'm not scared of her, but I have to protect Fizzy, and I could never know what to expect.</p><p>"I'm hungry," I say when we step into the kitchen.</p><p>"I just ate," Fizzy shrugs and sits on the wooden kitchen table.</p><p>There's a steak and some potatoes from yesterday so I heat them and sit down at the table with her.</p><p>"Do you like Harry?" Fizzy asks after a bit, and I almost choke on a potato.</p><p>I clear my throat and swallow, trying to gain time. There's no way I'm telling her what's going on with me and him. "He...he seems to be a good lad, I don't know, why?" the words rush out of my mouth, and her face looks calmer and relieved now.</p><p>She shifts awkwardly in her chair and swipes some invisible dirt off the table. "They...um, they're really friendly people, their family, Anne, and Des, and they don't like getting too involved in other people's lives because they don't want to be a bother, you know? But they're kind, really kind and Gemma is currently the only friend I have and trust and love and-"</p><p>"Fizzy, just tell me," I scold, feeling more uncomfortable and dizzy with every second that passes by. Talking about Harry <em>and his family </em>with Fizzy isn't as appealing as it may sound.</p><p>"They invited us over for Christmas, Louis. It's in two months or so, and it may be a little early to make plans, but I really want to go. They said mum should come too but I said she probably won't be able to make it because...well, because she's mum, I didn't say that though. But I <em>will </em>go and it'd mean a lot to me if you could come with me, please."</p><p>I'm staring at her like any 17-year-old boy would stare at his sister if she asked him to spend Christmas with the boy he fucked two weeks ago. Speechless and tongue-tied. I wish I could simply clap my hands and disappear, because I don't want to go. I don't want to spend Christmas with a noisy, beautiful, clingy Harry who asks questions and stares like he's trying to read my-probably empty-soul. I don't want to go because I don't want to risk something happening between us again; I know that if I'm there and Harry's there and his hands are on my body I won't be able to resist. I won't want to resist, just like last time.</p><p>"Fizzy, I...," I sigh, raising my brows and hands at the same time.</p><p>"Just think about it Louis, okay? It's okay, I'll go anyway, even by myself," she replies in a hurry and reaches out to touch my hand.</p><p>I only nod, my throat suddenly feeling tight, and she gets up, says that she'll be in her room, and disappears.</p><p>As soon as she leaves the room I push my full plate away. I sigh, a heavy and I-am-confused-to-death sigh, and let my head fall onto the hard, wooden surface of the table. This is too much. And Harry isn't helping, being all supportive and caring about it, about everything; my sexuality issues, my mum (because I saw how concerned he look in the car today when me and Fizzy talked about it.) But I don't care. I shouldn't. I shouldn't allow myself to care. So I don't.</p><p>I get up and throw my food into the trash can before grabbing my jacket and going out for a run.</p><p>The sky is covered by thick, dark, dry clouds, and I find myself wishing it was a sunny and bright day so it could help me clear my noisy mind.</p><p>I run and run and run and run, feet dragging against pavements and roads and grassy paths. My body sweats under the layers of clothes and the cold wind swipes across my face. I can feel the breeze running through my hair as I round corners and pass by trees, and for a moment, I feel alive. I feel immortal and fearless and I smile and whisper "That's it," because I love that feeling. I love to feel, I need to feel. Almost as much as I need a safe place.</p><p>By the time I get home, it's dark and quiet outside. I find mum lying on the couch, sleeping, and I smile as I grab a blanket and cover her small body. I go straight to my room, grabbing an apple on my way there because I'm pretty sure I'll die of starvation. I close the door and take my shoes and clothes off. I take a shower. The hot water streams down my body, awaking my nerves and calming them down quickly. I almost feel alive again.</p><p>When I'm done I get out and slip into an oversized hoodie (because, it's kind of embarrassing, but I love oversized hoodies) and some blue boxers, and get under the covers.</p><p>I remember that I haven't touched my phone all day so I reach out for my pants and search for it in all four pockets. When I find it, I throw the jeans away and lay back into the bed.</p><p>I have a text from Niall, one from Liam and another one from a number that isn't saved in my contracts.</p><p>The text from Niall says about a party tomorrow night hosted at his house (of course, Niall is almost addicted to hosting parties) and I don't reply, thinking I'll just figure out what to do at the last minute.</p><p>Liam says he and Zayn miss me and I smile as I type <b>I'll do you the favour to hang out at your place after school tomorrow.</b></p><p>And then I almost put the phone down, but the text from this unknown person catches my eye. I tap on it and stare unblinkingly at the message:</p><p>
  <b>I have not the pleasure of understanding you.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>-Jane Austen.</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Good Thing I Hate Life More Than It Hates Me.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>History. Last period. I take a deep breath and look at Mr. Dawn pacing back and forth with big, enthusiastic steps. He looks extremely tall and miserable, so I look immediately away; same Mr. Dawn, same.</p><p>Zayn is sitting in the chair behind me so I carefully turn back as quietly as I can and look at him.</p><p>"Are you going to the party tonight?" I ask him, taking in the way his eyes fill with joy when he realises I'm talking to him. He must be really bored.</p><p>"Are you?" he responds, smirking.</p><p>"I don't know. We could go all together," I point in Liam's direction with my head.</p><p>Zayn glares at him with excited eyes. "Okay, good."</p><p>I nod and turn around, fixing my eyes on the girl in front of me. Her hair is curly, and my mind wanders to-who else?-Harry again. He's the one who texted me that Jane Austen quote, I know better than to believe otherwise. He knows what he's doing, playing innocent and caring, pretending that he gives a damn when I know that all he wants is me to fuck him again. I bet he does that all the time, playing with people and making them fall in love with him with beautiful quotes and novel romances. Not that I'm in love with him. I have never fallen in love and I know that if I ever do it'll be someone better than Harry. Not that I even know Harry, to be honest. We made a weird start and it has to come to an end.</p><p>"Tomlinson?" Mr. Dawn's low and deep voice forces me to return to reality.</p><p>I stare at the huge, filled with words and numbers whiteboard behind him, trying to figure out what the question might be. Mr. Dawn's eyes narrow, and his gaze starts to burn through his thin glasses; I shift in my chair.</p><p>"1967?" I ask, trying to appear comfortable and cool.</p><p>"Yes!" he screams, raising a hand and pointing at me with his finger.</p><p>I let a soft, relieved breath out and look around me, full of pride. I'm a king.</p><p>**</p><p>We're at Zayn's when it actually hits me that Harry will probably be at the party, too. But I don't really care because, to be honest, I have to talk to him. He has to know that I have decided that I no longer want to have anything to do with him-not that I ever did. The sooner the best. I almost look forward to seeing him.</p><p>"Hey, want a beer?" Zayn asks.</p><p>"No, I'm fine," I shrug. "We're going to the party, right?"</p><p>Liam glares at Zayn and Zayn glares at Liam.</p><p>"Yeah, okay," they say in one voice, while both lifting their shoulders. It's terrifying and it seems like they're the same person so I look away.</p><p>We talk about school for a bit and about how close graduation is. It scares me and I don't even want to think about it, considering I'm gonna stay here, probably end up working at a book store or even a fish shop, there's nothing to be really scared about, but maybe that's what scares me; the fact that I have no dreams. I do, actually, I do have dreams. They're just too good to come true or too good for me.</p><p>"I can picture you writing novels that make history and stay in people's hearts forever," Liam says to Zayn in a theatrical and cheesy voice, and his boyfriend cackles.</p><p>"What are you gonna do? Turn them into songs?" Zany jokes and I smile.</p><p>"Play piano to inspire you, stupido. We make a good duo," Liam replies and reaches out to pull Zayn onto his lap.</p><p>"What about you?" Zany turns to me as he shifts on his boyfriend's feet. "Still not a dreamer?"</p><p>I sigh and run a hand through my hair. "It's not that I'm not a dreamer, I just really love Donny," I lie. I do love Doncaster, that wasn't a lie. But that's not the reason I'm staying. The boys know that, too, but they don't push the subject any farther because they never do. I like that about them, it helps a lot.</p><p>"Hey, what are you doing on Christmas?" I ask them, trying to change the subject.</p><p>"We'll go over at Liam's. With my family," Zayn informs, resting his head on the other boy's shoulder.</p><p>I raise my eyebrows in interest but make no sound.</p><p>"You can come, too," Liam waves a hand in the air as he speaks.</p><p>"Thanks, mate. I'm invited somewhere else too anyway, but I'll think about it, thanks." I nod.</p><p>Everything is covered by an awkward silence afterward and I'm left looking around and thinking about Mrs. Twist's invitation. I shouldn't go. But if I don't it'd upset my sister. Ugh. Everything was fine, and then Harry came into my life and suddenly everything needs overthinking and an explanation and a meaning. I hate it.</p><p>"So what about that party, huh?" Liam's voice cracks the thoughts inside my head.</p><p>I smile and get up, heading to the door. We're in the car sooner or later, and on our way to Niall's fancy house.</p><p>**</p><p>When we arrive at the party the place is already full, people dancing and talking and singing and making out against beige, fancy, tall walls that shine under the led lights.</p><p>"Hey, we're going to the bathroom!" Zayn shouts in my ear but I can still barely hear him under the noisy music that beams in my ears.</p><p>"Please don't be drunk when we come back," Liam begs and I flip him off with a smile.</p><p>I turn around and face the full room. There are colorful strings of light coming from the ceiling, and as I walk farther into the house I spot a DJ in the corner of the room where the couches normally are. Niall is standing next to him, watching carefully as his fingers slide across a black vinyl and push random buttons. Jesus, Niall is really into this party thing.</p><p>I start walking toward them when my eyes spot a familiar figure talking to a stranger. It's Harry. Our eyes lock, his lips stop moving, and everyone in the suddenly awfully suffocating room starts moving in slow motion, the music turns into a headaching buzzing in the back of my head. He blinks, and when he looks back up I'm not there. I walk quickly to Niall who is smoking now, leaning against the wall behind the DJ who is chugging down a bottle of water. Niall's looking around, making sure everyone's having fun, and when his eyes find mine in the drunk crowd his face lights up.</p><p>"Tommo!" he shouts over the music and wraps one arm around my shoulders.</p><p>"Hey, Niall," I smile at him, looking carefully around, trying to see if Harry is still looking. I can't find him, so I turn back to Niall.</p><p>"Having fun yet?" he asks me.</p><p>"I, in fact, just arrived," I inform in a light tone.</p><p>"Alone?" he wonders, looking behind me.</p><p>"No, Zayn and Liam are here, too, they just went to the bathroom."</p><p>He murmurs something like "Good" or "God" and turns to the DJ again.</p><p>"I'll give my lad Tommo a tour around. You play the hits. Only. The. Hits." His voice is so loud that if the music wasn't louder everyone would turn around and look at us.</p><p>He puts his hand on my back and leads me to the stairs. We don't even get to reach the bottom because we meet Liam and Zayn in the way, their hair messy and their cheeks red.</p><p>"Were you two <em>fucking</em>?" Niall beams and I cackle. "In my bathroom? Ew."</p><p>Zayn rolls his eyes and Liam awkwardly scranches his nose, not giving us a reply.</p><p>"By the way Niall, we want these led lights for our flat, too," Zayn points at the strings above our heads.</p><p>"Sure, mate. Come with me, you have to meet Aron."</p><p>Before I can even process it they're all gone and I'm standing, once again, all alone in the middle of a crowd full of moving bodies who push and pull me, not giving a damn about my bones, apparently. A waitress passes by me with a plate full of shots; I grab two and drink them fast and without thinking. The alcohol hits me and warms me up, making me think that it's not that bad that I'm alone after all. I walk over to the bar and take a beer from the ice basket. I pop it open and drink some, grimacing at the way it mixes with the taste of tequila that's still on my tongue.</p><p>Fourteen minutes, three shots, and two beers later, a boy finds my eyes in the crowd, stares at me, and smirks blissfully. I smile back, making him think that I like him (when I'm not even sure if I like boys, in general, myself) and he starts walking towards me. For each step forward he takes, I take one back. I'm not trying to avoid him, it's more of a playful and dance-y way. He smiles wider and wider the closer he gets to me and when my back collides with the wall his face turns completely smirky. He licks his lips and stands in front of me, putting one hand on my chest and the other one on the wall next to my head. He starts leaning slowly in, his nose brushing my jaw and neck. He smells like Harry. But he's wearing perfume, Harry doesn't have to wear perfume to smell like that.</p><p>Harry.</p><p>I put my hand on his chest to stop him from kissing me. I carefully spin us around and push his body against the wall. I want to play it cool so I lean in and kiss the skin under his ear. He flinches in surprise and I leave with a grin on my face that falls right after I turn my back to him.</p><p>I grab another beer from the bar and drink half of it with one sip. I hear a shuffle from behind me so I turn around. My eyes watch in slow motion as a girl accidentally falls on a boy, the boy pushes a girl and the girl elbows me as she tries not to lose balance. I fall back, my back crashing onto the hard floor, but no one seems to notice or care, so when I feel the beer spreading all over my shirt I close my eyes, feeling almost unconscious.</p><p>I don't know how much time goes by but at some point, I hear a voice shouting "Hey, be careful!" near my head, and then two arms are carefully wrapped around my body and lifting me up.</p><p>We're moving, slowly and carefully, and as I let my head fall on the person's warm chest, a familiar scent feels my nostrils.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Here We Go Again.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Surprisingly, I'm conscious again once we reach the top of the stairs. Maybe it's Harry's scent or his hands around me, but I suddenly feel wide awake and almost sober.</p><p>He opens a door and I whisper "Put me down" against his warm chest. He does as told, leaning down and helping me step on the hard floor. I stay by the door, leaning back on it, while he walks to the bed and sits there, his back resting against the headboard. I steady myself against the hard surface behind me and look around the room. It's the same room me and Harry hooked up that night. I barely remember it, but the floor, freshly waxed and hardwood, looks familiar enough, probably because I almost broke my spine last time. I also remember the nightstands, white and clean, carefully placed at each side of the king-sized bed.</p><p>Harry shifts on the bed, making the duvet shuffle, and I turn to face him. He's already looking.</p><p>"How do we always end up here?" I ask playfully, earning a wide, lopsided smile.</p><p>"Whose even is this room?" Harry asks, looking around.</p><p>"I'm pretty sure it's Greg's," I respond, pointing at the hockey trophies, scarfs, shirts and posters hung on the wall in the corner of the room. Everyone knows Greg is obsessed with hockey. To be honest, I have no idea why.</p><p>We stay quiet for a bit, the silence filled with comfortable energy that flies across the room and sings into each other's ears as we look around.</p><p>"Is your sister okay?" he finally mutters, his brows knotting and creating a perfect V at the bottom of his forehead.</p><p>"What?" I ask. Why wouldn't Fizzy be okay? What happened?</p><p>"Her ankle. She hit it at my house, remember?" he explains, eyes fixed on his hands on his lap, green irises and my ability to look at them taken away from me.</p><p>I let out a heavy, long breath. "That happened, like, two weeks ago!" I squeal in relief.</p><p>He doesn't reply, just momentarily stares at me with a black expression before his eyes flutter to his lap again.</p><p>"She was fine. She lied down and put some ice on it. Mum helped her."</p><p>"Your mum?" he exclaims surprised, hopeful eyes flying to my face.</p><p>I nod and walk over to the bed. I put one leg on the mattress and sit at the edge, as far away from his body as I can, too scared to be close to him but too weak to resist the unbearable need to be near him. He moves a little and lays down on the pile of pillows underneath the covers. His palms reach behind his head and stay there, cupping the back of his neck, creating a pillow with their palms. I get it as an opportunity to scoot closer and lay beside him. The bed is too big anyway, so we're not even touching. I cross my legs.</p><p>I enjoy the silence as much as I can because he starts talking sooner or later. I find it extremely appealing listening carefully to his breath, as creepy as that may sound, but I love listening to him talking even more. He talks about hockey at first, about how he went to a game once but ended up sleeping in his dad's lap, then ankles and injuries. We talk about little accidents we had when we were younger, and he mentions his family so we end up talking about his mum and stepdad.</p><p>"They really like you, you know," he squints and stares down at me, smirking.</p><p>"Seriously, Harry, I haven't met your stepfather but your mum and sister look like the kind of people who like everyone," I laugh.</p><p>He chuckles, "They don't invite everyone over for Christmas, though."</p><p>My laughter dies. I try not to push the subject any farther so I instead say, "My birthday is the day before."</p><p>"On the twenty-fourth?!" he exclaims excitedly.</p><p>"Yeah," I breathe, holding my hand up in front of my face, examining my fingers.</p><p>"That's cool," his excitement dies at how cold I sound. I'm not mad, and I don't want him to think I am, so I roll on my side and use my arm and elbow to steady my head on the pillows. I look down at him.</p><p>"So, when's your birthday?" I ask him in a flirty and playful tone.</p><p>He smiles, a weight lifting off his forest green eyes. "February first," he declares softly.</p><p>"That's cool," I whisper and let my eyes run on his face.</p><p>His eyelashes are so long and their light brown colour fits so perfectly with the deep green of his eyes that it bewitches me and makes me want to scream and cry. I smile at him and reach out to push back a lock of hair that's fallen on his face, covering his forehead. Once I realize what I'm doing I flinch and jerk away, but he takes my hand in his and brings it back on his cheek. I leave it there, resting on the soft skin under his eyelids, until my own skin craves for more, and I start caressing his cheekbone. He closes his eyes, his breath calming and his skin leaning into my touch.</p><p>"Are you tired?" I whisper.</p><p>He doesn't reply, he leans in and brushes his bottom lip against mine.</p><p>I gasp softly, my fingers burying in the endless mess of brown curls that cover his head. His lips are warm and soft as they press on mine. He breathes heavily and evenly against my cheek as his tongue reaches for mine in my mouth. I moan, climbing on top of him and pressing my hips against his. He gets hard, something that drives me crazy, and I slide my hands under his shirt, feeling his flushed skin tightening under my touch.</p><p>"You drive me mad," he gags into my mouth.</p><p>I moan again and he hardens more, his length pressing against my inner thigh.</p><p>His hands fly to the buttons of my shirt as my tongue presses against his and he starts unbuttoning them faster than I have ever seen anyone unbuttoning anything. I'm not one to blame though, I'm so needy that I'm whining, pressing my palms against his hot skin, wanting more and more and more.</p><p>This feels so sudden, but so right.</p><p>"Do you have lube?" I ask, my voice dying in a whimper when he softly grabs my hips and presses them on his.</p><p>"Yes," he hisses, unbuttoning the last button of my shirt.</p><p>I take his jeans off in fast movements. I search in all of his pockets but it's nowhere.</p><p>"Jacket," he groans and my eyes immediately fly to the denim jacket that lies on the floor next to the bed.</p><p>I climb off him, my body feeling cold and weak, and reach for the small pocket of the jacket. I find the little bottle, and when I turn back to him he's already out of his boxers. I climb on top again and let a heavy breath out at the feeling of his bare skin against mine.</p><p>I lean in and press a hot kiss on his naked collarbone.</p><p>"Condom?" I whisper, finding it hard to stay away from his skin for too long.</p><p>"Greg," he moans.</p><p>I jerk immediately away.</p><p>"Did you just fucking call me Greg?" I gasp, taking my hands off his sweaty chest.</p><p>"No," he whines in a weak and uneven voice. "Greg. Nightstand. Drawers. Condom." His eyes are shut and his lips swollen and red. And he's smart. Too smart.</p><p>I reach out and open the drawers of the nightstand and open them all, one after the other. And he's right. I find a pack of condoms in the bottom drawer. It feels light and empty in my hand so I almost tear it open, only to find just one condom left. Now if that's not a fucking sign that I have to fuck this boy then I don't know.</p><p>I slip out of my pants and boxers, watching as Harry's half-lidded eyes examine my naked body. I climb on top of him again, my skin craving for his touch. I'm so hard it hurts.</p><p>"Turn around," I command in a whisper.</p><p>He grabs the collar of my unbuttoned shirt and pulls me closer. His lips crash on mine for once more and I moan into his mouth, making his cock twist under my thigh. I feel like I'm gonna come on the spot if he doesn't stop licking my top lip that way.</p><p>"Turn around, <em>fuck</em>," I hiss, breaking contact.</p><p>He doesn't lose any more time. He swirls underneath me and all of a sudden the creamy skin of his back is widespread before my eyes. I grab his waist and apply some lube on the tip of the condom, maybe a little bit more than I should, not wanting to hurt him.</p><p>I close my eyes as I slowly press against his rim and fill him, sensing the way he feels so tight around me.</p><p>"Oh God," he breathes against the pillow and I start to move slowly back and forth.</p><p>I can't believe I'm doing this. But Harry's here and I'm here, and his tight walls feel so heavenly wrapped around me that it's unable to stop. I move in and out of him, slowly and seductively, earning soft and whining sounds from him.</p><p>I place my hands at the small of his back and start moving my hips in circles. His muscles relax and tighten and relax and tighten under my movements and I let my head fall back, too deep in the feeling to care about anything else. It feels so nicely right; as if the entire universe worked together and coordinated only for this. For us.</p><p>"How does that feel?" I ask, tightening my grip on his waist.</p><p>"Harder," he hisses. "<em>Please</em>."</p><p>I could never, even in my wildest dreams, imagine that Harry begging me would feel so good.</p><p>"Say it again," I moan, teasing him.</p><p>He whines, pressing his hips on me, and he makes a sound that I have never heard before when I touch his spot.</p><p>"Louis, <em>please</em>," he hisses impatiently. "Harder."</p><p>I groan and put all of my weight on my knees as I start thrusting deeper, hitting his spot every time.</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>, Harry," I spit when he reaches out and strokes his cock under the sheets. "Don't touch," I insist, feeling so close that I don't even allow myself to look down where he's touching himself.</p><p>"<em>Louis</em>," he cries and stops moving his hand, but keeps it there. I moan.</p><p>"Come, Harry. Come for me." My voice is weak and shaking, but it echoes in the room and reaches his ears.</p><p>That's all it takes. He's coming all over his palm and stomach, cum spilling on a pillow underneath him, and only the sight of it pushes me over the edge. I groan his name, my knees start to shake, and I come into the condom, feeling his muscles tightening around my sore length.</p><p>"<em>Shit</em>," I whisper and fall onto the bed next to him after taking the condom off and throwing it on the floor.</p><p>He rolls over, breathing loudly and heavily beside me as he tries to calm himself down.</p><p>"<em>Shit</em>," he repeats and I cackle as I fix my fringe.</p><p>He laughs and throws the dirty pillow on the floor, wiping his palm against it.</p><p>I grimace and he smiles, placing his index finger on his lips and rolling to his side. "Sleep," he whispers.</p><p>I close my eyes, the dark sky out the window creeping its way to my face. I turn my back on Harry, laying on my side, because I always sleep that way, and sigh slowly before shutting my eyes closed.</p><p>I don't know how much time passes, maybe seconds, maybe a minute, but I feel his warmth coming closer to me and I wake up from the shuffling of the duvet. Sooner or later his arms are wrapped around my waist and his hot breath on my skin. I close my eyes again, drifting off, and I sleep better than I have in what seems like forever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. You Know Things Are Bad When You Kiss Him With A Morning Breath.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake up because of Harry's even breath in my ear. I'm lying on my back, my feet tangled with his, as the warmth of his body sparkles to mine from his long arms wrapped around my naked torso. He moves a little, mumbling gibberish under his breath that sends vibrations through my neck. He's sweaty and warm against me, our naked bodies almost one under the covers. </p><p><br/>This is unbelievable. If someone told me three weeks ago that I'd be waking up next to Harry Styles, wrapped around him like we're some kind of lovebirds that can't get enough of each other, I'd probably break their nose. Then again, who I am to judge? <br/>I stare out the window, looking at the sun beaming through the plain black curtains. It must be noon. I have to get up.</p><p><br/>"Harry, Harry," I whisper in his ear, softly touching his leg with mine.</p><p><br/>He lets out an annoyed groan and shuffles, clinging onto me more.</p><p><br/>"We need to get up, wake up," I murmur again against his creamy neck. Goosebumps dance on his skin, and I look away.</p><p><br/>He yawns and stretches a hand out as he rolls on his back. He breaks contact and detaches completely from my body, the cold immediately taking over my skin, making me want to scoot closer and touch him again. He fixes his eyes on the ceiling.</p><p><br/>"Good morning," he sighs with a morning, raspy voice, without looking at me.</p><p><br/>I, on the contrary, find it hard enough to take my eyes off him. There's a pillow mark on his cheek that makes him look younger and innocent, and his brown curls are shamelessly falling on the white pillow underneath his head. </p><p><br/>"Morning," I respond, fighting with my own self to look away. </p><p><br/>His green eyes find mine, making my attempts to look away feel impossible now. He gives me a smile before reaching out and pulling me on top of him. I let a breathy, surprised chuckle out and put my head into his neck, trying to hide my unreasonable, wide smile.</p><p><br/>"Did you sleep okay?" he asks, his voice on my shoulder and his breath on the nape of my neck.</p><p><br/>"Mhm," I mumble. "You?" </p><p><br/>I really have to get off him.</p><p><br/>"Wonderfully," he smiles against my skin. My stomach tightens and flutters.</p><p><br/>I pull back and stare into his eyes. His dimples are showing, making his cheeks widen and pop up. His entire face is a masterpiece.</p><p>I really have to get off him. This whole thing is wrong, and Harry isn't good for me. He's plain trouble. Then again, can trouble look so fucking good? </p><p><br/>He raises a hand and presses his fingers against my cheekbone. I'm biting my bottom lip so hard—trying not to smile—that I can almost taste the blood that runs under it. Next thing I know, he raises his head from the pillow and softly brushes his nose against the corner of my mouth.</p><p><br/>My lips part with a quiet sigh, waiting for his to press against them, and when they do, I moan into his mouth, placing my palms on his kind of cold now torso. His lips move perfectly on mine, and I actually can't believe we're fucking doing this because we're both naked and have a morning breath, yet I don't even seem to mind as I let his tongue slip into my mouth and breath heavily against his closed eyelids. </p><p><br/>"God, Louis," he moans on my lips and my hips press against his in response. He grabs my thighs to stop my movements. </p><p><br/>"We have to go," I say mostly to myself as I break the kiss and look into his sparkling, glossy eyes. </p><p><br/>"Come over to my place tonight," he groans and starts pressing soft kisses on my neck, as if he can't get enough. </p><p><br/>My blood freezes in my veins at the thought of him wanting to see me again, but I don't allow myself to think about it any more. I nod and pull back, climbing off the bed.</p><p><br/>It feels like that room was a little pink, sparkly bubble because once we step out of Niall's villa,  the tension tightens and thickens. Even when we get in his car, even when he parks out of my house and I smile at him before pressing my lips on his goodbye (no idea why, I decide to blame it on the hangover, even if my head feels lighter than it does when I'm completely sober), it's not the same. </p><p><br/>Even when I get into my house and pass by my mum and Lottie fighting in the kitchen trying to ignore the disturbing noises, something feels wrong. </p><p><br/>It's only when the clock sings two in the morning and I realise that I've spent all day thinking, that I actually miss him. It's a terrible feeling that I despise, yet I let it creep inside me and rest at the bottom of my heart. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Come over to my place tonight. Come over to my place tonight. Come over to my place tonight.</em>
</p><p><br/>My eyes close slowly as I imagine his arms around me and his steady heartbeat against my back. I fall asleep.</p><p><br/>**</p><p><br/>"You're doing it again," Zayn's voice breaks through my wandering thoughts. </p><p><br/>"What?" I ask as I come back to reality, fixing my eyes on him. </p><p><br/>I shift in my seat nervously and grab a fried potato from my blue tray with my plastic white fork. The school cafeteria is full, as usual, and the loud noises give me an unwelcome headache. </p><p><br/>"Staring at him," Zayn explains. </p><p><br/>"Staring at who?" I wonder confused.</p><p><br/>Zayn rolls his eyes, as if it's obvious who he's talking about. "Harry, of course."</p><p><br/>"What? I wasn't staring at him?! I just looked in a random direction, and he happened to be there," I protest.</p><p><br/>"Jesus, Louis, he's been sitting at that table since the first day. Why don't you simply admit it?"</p><p><br/>"There's nothing to admit," I cut him off, biting a piece of a small, cold cucumber. </p><p><br/>"What if you like him? What's wrong with that?" Zayn prompts in an eager tone. </p><p><br/>I groan annoyed. "I do not like Harry. I just sleep with him because he's miserable. End of discussion."</p><p><br/>"You know, this isn't very mature," he continues, and as if his annoying remark isn't enough, he reaches out and takes one of my fries. I watch his hand as it brings it to his mouth, and then wait for him to swallow.</p><p> <br/>"I have never claimed I'm mature," I challenge him seriously. </p><p><br/>"It's just that thing you have...I don't know. You get completely lost, you zone out!"</p><p><br/>"Zayn, seriously, knock it off. I don't like Harry, and I don't want to talk about him," I demand angrily. </p><p><br/>Zayn raises his eyebrows disappointedly but stays silent. I don't lay my eyes on Harry for the rest of the day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. You Learn Something New Everyday.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The weekend goes by slowly and normally. I spend a lot of time at the school library as always, but I barely study whenever I am there; I spend all the time talking to Mr. Clark or reading well-written porn books just for fun. I have a good brain, so the teachers don't seem to care about me not working at home. I hate school and school hates me, so we're even. </p><p><br/>This morning I almost trip over my own feet when I see Harry leaning against my locker. He's wearing a grey hoodie and plain black sweats that are loose around his tall legs. He's staring down at his feet, holding carefully two books on his chest, and I pick up my pace, too scared that he'll disappear if I don't get to him fast enough.</p><p><br/>"Hey, Louis!" Liam's voice calls behind me and I instantly turn around. I'm pretty sure Harry can hear us from here. I wonder if he's looking at me right now. I wonder if his curls are freshly washed or just messily hanging on his head, falling on his green eyes.</p><p> <br/>"Are you okay?" Liam asks, probably for the second time.</p><p><br/>"Hey, mate," I greet him. "I'm alright, why?"</p><p><br/>"You just didn't answer my calls yesterday, and you kind of disappeared at the party, too," he explains, his face covered with worry. </p><p><br/>"I'm alright, I was out for a run when you called last night and, well, at the party I...I left," I stutter, looking at the ground. </p><p><br/>A smirk flashes across his face, letting me know he got the message; I smile at him, grateful he isn't making me say it out loud.</p><p><br/>"Okay. See you in class?" he nods and winks at me.</p><p><br/>"See ya, Li," I laugh. </p><p><br/>When I turn around, Harry is gone.</p><p><br/>**</p><p><br/>A few days go by, almost a week, and nothing changes. School, library, home, run, sleep, school, library, home, run, sleep. It feels like a never-ending circle that I'm not strong enough to break. I haven't spoken to Harry since that morning. We share a class, History, but he barely looks at me, and even if it doesn't seem like he's ignoring me, it doesn't feel like he wants to talk to me either. I don't really care, though. I don't even think about it in my bed at three in the morning. </p><p><br/>"What are you doing on Christmas?" Liam asks Jeffrey at the lunch table. </p><p><br/>Jeffrey shrugs and says he and his mum will probably spend the day alone, or at his grandma's. Liam doesn't even pretend to care about Jeffrey's response, he simply starts droning on and on about his and Zayn's plans. Zayn rolls his eyes, I'd bet he's heard this monologue more than one hundred times, but he ends up taking part in the conversation, too.</p><p><br/>"Stop talking about bullshit," Sam interrupts them and Liam stops midsentence. "I've got some juicy gossip."</p><p><br/>All the boys at the table immediately shut their mouths and turn to face him, their faces shining with interest. He leans in and scans the cafeteria with mysterious eyes, as if he's about to reveal the biggest secret.</p><p><br/>Niall comes and sits with us, taking the empty seat next to me. He hands me an almost finished cartoon of strawberry juice, and I put the straw inside my mouth as my eyes fly to Sam's excited face again.</p><p> <br/>"Harry Styles is fucking someone."</p><p><br/>I choke on the juice so bad, that it gets out of my nose. Niall's palm quickly collides with my back and he hits me so abruptly and strongly that it actually makes me choke harder. Everyone around the table gasps and murmurs—I'm the only one choking and spurting strawberry fucking juice out my mouth and nose. </p><p><br/>Zayn smirks at me and turns back to Sam.</p><p><br/>"Yeah," he continues with the same I-am-a-little-girl-who-loves-gossip tone. "He was at gym class yesterday changing clothes in the locker room because someone accidentally threw water at him and Elvis <em>swears</em> he saw nail scratches on his back."</p><p><br/>"He also has a hickey under his ear!" a boy that I don't even know adds from the other side of the table. </p><p><br/>Niall giggles behind me but doesn't say a word.</p><p><br/>Shit. I have to be more careful.</p><p><br/>"Did he say anything about it?" Mark asks.</p><p><br/>"Nah," Sam shrugs disappointedly. "The boys asked a bunch of questions but he didn't reply. He just said it's good." </p><p><br/>If it's good then why has he been avoiding me? Why hasn't he tried to talk to me or get in touch with me? Why hasn't he sent me one of his crappy quotes? That would do, too. What if he doesn't want to? What if he's ashamed? What if he simply lied because he wanted the boys to stop asking?</p><p><br/>"Is it a he or a she?" Justin's voice reaches my ears and I immediately turn to Sam, waiting for his reply.</p><p><br/>Sam smirks. "I think it's a he."</p><p><br/>"I <em>bet</em> it's a he," Niall laughs behind me and slams his hand loudly on the table. </p><p><br/>My heart skips a beat.</p><p><br/>Seven pairs of eyes are on him now. </p><p><br/>"I'm his best mate, yo! Do you think I don't know shit?" he grins. "But I'm not saying anything. I don't even know who the person is. All I know is that Harry couldn't walk for three days, and that he's having a good ass time." </p><p><br/>And just like that he gets up, finishes the strawberry juice, winks at me, and starts walking away. I immediately excuse myself and run after him. He gets out of the cafeteria and heads for the parking lot. </p><p><br/>It's sunny today, even though I bet the thin clouds will finally find their way to the sun sooner or later and hide it again. It'll probably rain, too. You never know with England.</p><p><br/>"Hey!" I call as soon as we enter the lot.</p><p><br/>Niall stops at the sound of my voice and turns around, a playful grin covering his face when he sees me. I pick up my pace and nod as I stop and stand in front of him. He raises a hand and lets it stand in the air in front of his brown, round eyes, in an attempt to hide them from the bright rays of sun falling on his face. I just stand there staring at him tongue-tied, because I have actually no idea why I'm here.</p><p><br/>"What is it, mate?" Niall asks finally. </p><p><br/>"Umm," I mumble. "So... Harry is fucking with someone?" The words find their way out of my mouth.</p><p><br/>He smirks. "Why? Are you interested, pretty boy?" He reaches out and pinches my sides, making me cringe.</p><p><br/>"No, I... I'm not," I retort. "Just... just wanted to know more." I'm fucking this up big time. </p><p><br/>He chuckles and gets closer, even if we're alone in the lot. "Hey, don't tell anyone, but he's fucking whipped. He doesn't admit it though, he just says it's because the sex is good, even though I doubt they've done it more than three times, but he's in deep," he laughs it off.</p><p><br/>Like it's a joking matter. Like we're not fucking talking about my love life in an empty parking lot. Like I'm not a pathetic dork who chased down Harry's best friend just because I want to know more about Harry's feelings on the way I fuck him. <em>God.</em></p><p><br/>"Whipped? What do you mean whipped?" I stutter, trying not to sound too interested in the conversation. </p><p><br/>The way Niall looks at me assures me that I'm tragically failing.</p><p><br/>"Whipped, mate!" he exclaims. "In fucking love! He's out of his mind."</p><p><br/>I don't answer him. I stand there, completely still, thinking nothing, until the sound of the bell ringing reaches my ears and I nod at him once, whisper a breathy "thanks" under my breath that I'd bet he doesn't even hear, and start walking away.</p><p><br/>When I get into the half-empty cafeteria again, Harry's face is the first thing my eyes land on. He's still sitting at his table, the table he's been sitting at since day one, talking to someone I don't even mind acknowledging. He moves his hands and body as if he's describing the most exciting thing, his green eyes sparkling, sending out light as he blinks, and his face is bright and warm. The other person says something and Harry starts laughing uncontrollably, holding his stomach with his hands; the sound reaches me from across the room, and my stomach takes a weird loop.</p><p><br/>I force myself to look away because there's no way, not a single one, this boy is in love with me.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Piece And Quiet.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You're here! Was about time!" Mr. Clark exclaims from his desk as I enter the school library.</p><p>I chuckle and carefully place my books on the table I usually sit before walking up to him.</p><p>His grey hair fits perfectly his pale, dry skin as he looks at me through his thick glasses. He has thin, pink, small lips that almost disappear when he smiles and his eyes are clear brown, if I look deep into them I can actually see the years of experience.</p><p>"Hi, Mr. Clark," I smile my warmest smile.</p><p>"What have you brought today?" he asks, putting the little book he's reading on the table.</p><p>"Nothing interesting," I shrug. "Just an English essay about advertisement I have to work on. Do you need to leave?"</p><p>"It's okay, kiddo," he sighs. "I shouldn't leave you alone anyway."</p><p>I lean closer. "Sir, it's okay. If you have somewhere else to go feel free to leave. I'll turn the lights off and just light up the lamp on my table. The light is not that bright, but it will do," I comfort him.</p><p>He hesitates.</p><p>"Where do you have to go?" I continue.</p><p>"It's my wife's birthday today," he informs with a sigh and I cock my head.</p><p>"Then go, it's okay. No one is gonna know I was here, no one has ever been here while you're gone." Harry has been here. But I have decided that it would be much better if I pretend Harry doesn't exist. So, technically, no one has been here while Mr. Clark was gone.</p><p>He gets up and shoves the small book into the pocket of his coat. "You're such a great kid, Louis. Thank you. Stay for as long as you want and need, and if anything happens call me immediately," he murmurs.</p><p>"Tell your wife I said happy birthday," I sing just before he closes the door of the library and gets out in the cold breeze.</p><p>I run to the switch on the wall next to the door and turn the lights off. It's strange. The place is completely dark, the only light coming from the buildings outside and the cars passing by the street, yet it still somehow shines bright. There's a strange and different kind of light coming from the hundreds of books on the old, dusty shelves.</p><p>I adjust my eyes to the darkness and walk to the table where I left my books. I curl my fingers around the string that's hanging from the green table-lamp next to me and pull it down. A flicker of light falls on the wooden, brown surface underneath the lamp and I smile, feeling like I'm in 1960.</p><p>I turn on my books and start reading, my eyes running through lines and lines that make no sense, until I finally concentrate and focus on my essay. The words come easily out of me and onto the paper, and by the time the bell rings, announcing Mr. Clark's return, I'm almost done.</p><p>"You're back already? There was no need to leave your wife alone," I say without raising my eyes to look at him.</p><p>When I get no answer I lift my head up and stare in shock. It's not Mr. Clark.</p><p>"Harry?" I say, caught off guard.</p><p>He purses his lips and hesitates a bit before starting to take small steps toward me. My pulse quickens as I look at him getting closer and closer.</p><p>He drags back the chair opposite me and sits down.</p><p>"Why are you here?" I ask him in an even voice, examining his face.</p><p>He frowns and looks down at his own hands on the table. "I don't know. I just thought... um... I don't know," he stutters.</p><p>Niall's voice from yesterday echoes in my head, but I push it away.</p><p>"Okay," I nod. "I'm almost done with my essay. Have you brought anything to do?"</p><p>His lips draw a line. "No. Are we even supposed to be here when Mr. Clark isn't?"</p><p>The way he says we as if it's something we usually do together makes my stomach tighten.</p><p>"No," I chuckle. "But I do that a lot. Being friends with the librarian has its perks you know."</p><p>He chuckles and looks down again. The light from the lamp falls on his face, making it look brighter, warmer and closer, and when he looks back at me again I stare into his eyes, taking in the way they sparkle under the yellow flickers of light.</p><p>"What's the essay about?" he asks in an excited tone and leans in to read what I'm writing.</p><p>He's extremely close all of a sudden so I back off, pushing my chair back and taking my notebook with me. I hold it on my chest.</p><p>"Advertisement. Nothing interesting," I mumble and he narrows his eyes.</p><p>We stay quiet as I finish my essay. Harry gets up at some point and wanders around, looking at the books on the shelves and reading dozens of titles that have been hanging on book spines for years and years. Books untouched and forgotten, books that only he seems to care about. He sits on his chair again after a while and fixes his eyes on me. I try hard not to stare back and focus on the words my hand is writing on the piece of paper in front of me. As soon as I write the last word I lift my head. He smiles at me and I lean back against my chair.</p><p>There's a sheet of paper falling out of one of the books in front of me and he reaches out and takes it into his hand. He unfolds it before I can stop him. His eyes widen more and more as they run on the piece of paper in front of him.</p><p>"Did you make that?!" he exclaims.</p><p>Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.</p><p>"Y-yes?" I stutter.</p><p>His eyes widen even more and he flips the page, holding the front of it in front of my face.</p><p>It's a sketch I drew in class today, just because I was bored. It's nothing great, I just found a pencil in my bag and started drawing lines on the paper without really thinking.</p><p>It's a huge tree that takes most of the space, and then a little boy, looking up at the leaves and branches. There's a stuffed bear hanging off his left hand. The toy is dirty and almost destroyed.</p><p>"You draw?!" Harry continues in shock.</p><p>"I don't know. Yes, I guess. I have more of these at home. I don't know, I never really think about it. I just take crayons or anything I find in front of me and start... doing this," I mumble, pointing at the piece of paper with my head.</p><p>"Louis that's... that's... too good! Can't you see it? It's wonderful! The details, the shades, everything," he says surprised, with eyes that sparkle and make me dizzy.</p><p>I smile a crooked smile. "Thanks, I guess."</p><p>He stares at the sketch some more and then puts it back in the book it fell from.</p><p>"So? Why are you here?" I ask for a second time today in a calm voice, throwing my hands in the air.</p><p>"I don't know," he repeats and I scoff.</p><p>"What does that even mean? Were you just passing by? Did you want a book? Did you want to talk to Mr. Clark? Did you-"</p><p>"I knew you were here," he cuts me off. "I... I wanted to see you."</p><p>Why? I want to ask. Why did you want to see me? Why does Niall say you're in love with me? Why do you always find me, even when I try to hide, to push you out of my mind? Why do you drive me insane? Why are you always so understanding and easygoing? Why do you make everything feel easy and simple?</p><p>"Why?" I breathe, not knowing to which one the question applies.</p><p>He blinks and sighs, but doesn't reply, as if he doesn't even know the answer himself. Sounds pretty fair, since I don't even know the question either.</p><p>"I can leave," the words come out of his mouth slowly and disappointed.</p><p>"No, it's okay, I don't mind," I'm quick to reply, looking away. Stay. I want you to stay.</p><p>He smiles a shy smile that barely reaches his eyes and looks at his lap again.</p><p>I don't know why that happens. It's like there's sanity, and then there's Harry. When I'm with him, everything changes. The way I think, the things I say, the thoughts I have, the things I want to do. I change. I become someone I've avoided for years and years. Myself. A truer version of who I am. Of who I was. I miss that person, so I don't want Harry to go.</p><p>"Stay," I beg and his eyes fly to me, surprised.</p><p>He nods. "Okay."</p><p>So he does. We talk and talk and talk, just like we talked at the party one week ago. He talks about books and I talk about artists, he talks about music and I talk about drawings. The words fly around and swirl between us, lightening the conversation and keeping us company. I laugh and he smiles, and I smile and he laughs, and it feels like I've known him for years. The library clock sings twelve and he gets up from his seat.</p><p>"Shit, I have to go," he hisses. "My parents."</p><p>Oh yeah. Such a great thing to have parents that care about you.</p><p>"Okay," I whisper, nodding and standing up.</p><p>"See you tomorrow," he smiles.</p><p>"Try not to miss me too much," I tease and he rolls his eyes.</p><p>"It's gonna be unbearable. I won't be able to sleep."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"Goodnight, Louis."</p><p>"Sleep well, Harry."</p><p>His features disappear into the darkness as he opens the door of the library and gets lost in the streets. I watch him, even when my eyes can't anymore, I follow him, counting the minutes and seconds till I'm sure he's home, safe and sound. I take off, too then, getting out into the cold wind that hits my body and reaches the skin underneath my clothes. I can't feel it, though. I am too warm to let the cold weather affect me.</p><p>When I get home I run to my room and start drawing. I don't know what I'm doing exactly, it feels like my eyes can't see it but my mind knows what to do. I stay up till two in the morning, sketching lines and curves, and when I'm done I fall back on my chair to examine the drawing.</p><p>It's a library. It's dark and there are thousands of books on the shelves that are hanging on the walls, tables filling the place and covering the marble floor. There, in the deep end, on a table in the corner of the room, there are two table-lamps, lit, sparkling with light that's bright enough to make everything near them visible and clear. I smile and lean in to add one more little detail. My hand moves to the bottom right corner of the paper. <em>L.T.</em>, my fingers write and I chuckle to myself before putting it in the drawer with the rest of my drawings and switching the light off.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Hospital Beds.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">harry.</span>
</p><p>I drag my tray across the silver counter and scan the cafeteria; Niall is nowhere to be found, something completely unusual and weird since he's always too loud. </p><p><br/>I walk to the table I usually sit at. Percy is sitting there, smiling at the screen of his phone. He hears me approaching and lifts his head.  </p><p><br/>"Hi, Harry!" he greets and I slip into the seat next to him. </p><p><br/>"Hey," I smile at him and take a small bite of my pizza. "Have you seen Niall today?" I ask with a full mouth. </p><p><br/>Percy shrugs and looks around. "I think he's at the hospital."</p><p><br/>My eyes widen. "At the hospital? Niall? What happened?" I ask, almost choking on my food.</p><p><br/>"No, no," Percy sips casually on his soda. "He's alright. He's visiting someone, it's this boy...ahh, what's his name?"</p><p><br/>I let out a heavy, relieved breath and place my palm on my chest. Something happening to Niall is the most terrifying thing that could happen to me. </p><p><br/>"Leeroy? Liam? Lewis?" Percy's voice wonders next to me. "No, Louis. Yeah, this Louis guy. Good lad, good lad. They said he had a car accident this morning. Hope he's okay."</p><p><br/>I flinch, my eyes widening. "Louis? Louis Tomlinson?" </p><p><br/>He's completely concentrated on chewing his apple, so he simply nods, adding frustration to my worried face.</p><p><br/>"Louis is at the hospital?!" I exclaim in shock.</p><p><br/>"Calm down, mate. Do you know him or something?" he mumbles, spitting small apple pieces as he speaks. </p><p><br/>"No, I... I don't know him but Niall does and... well, it's none of your business." I stand up. "Tell Mrs. Jackson that I deeply apologize but I needed to leave."</p><p><br/>I rush out the door of the cafeteria before he can even react. </p><p><br/>My mind is boggling as I jog to my car in the parking lot. Louis had an accident? This morning? Did he get hurt? Is he okay? Is he even alive? Yes, of course, he is. It's just an accident. Percy didn't look so worried. But Percy is... Percy. Ugh. </p><p><br/>I only realise I've dialed Niall's number when his joyful voice beams through the line. </p><p><br/>"Mate!" </p><p><br/>"Niall, hi," I mutter, playing cool and chill. I open the door of my car and shut it close once I'm in the driver's seat. "Where are you?"</p><p><br/>"Hospital," he murmurs in a sadder tone. "Do you remember Louis? The Tomlinson guy? Short, cheekbones, messy and brown hair?"</p><p><br/>Of course I freaking remember Louis. "Yes," I interrupt him. "I mean, yes, I think I remember him."</p><p><br/>Niall is too troubled to care about my worried tone. "Well, he had a car accident this morning. Someone called the police and then they let the school know. I bet it's what everyone's talking about at lunch right now," his voice dies in a soft chuckle.</p><p><br/>My blood boils at the thought of so many people talking about Louis without even knowing him. </p><p><br/>"Is he okay?" I ask and hold the phone a little farther from my mouth so he can't hear my trembling voice. </p><p><br/>Why am I even <em>shaking</em>? </p><p><br/>"He is still unconscious."</p><p><br/>I freeze in my place. </p><p><br/>"The doctor said he'll be fine, though. He didn't hit his head or anything. He has some injuries on his legs, but that's all. It's probably just the shock."</p><p><br/>My mind is filled with Louis and cars and tires against dry pavements. I shiver, shaking the thought away. </p><p><br/>"I'll be there in a bit okay?" I inform Niall and start the car. </p><p><br/>The roaring sound coming from the engine calms me down a little bit, but it's not enough to soothe the panic rising in my throat. </p><p><br/>"Oh?" he says from the other side of the line. "Why?"</p><p><br/>Ah. What do I say now? "I don't know, Niall, I'm just worried about you, and it's not like I don't know Louis," I respond too quickly. </p><p><br/>The husky sound of his worried breath against the microphone fills my ears.</p><p><br/>"I'm coming, Ni," is all I say before hanging up. </p><p><br/>I exhale loudly as I pull into the driveway. He'll be alright. It's just an accident. He'll be fine. </p><p><br/>**</p><p><br/>I was kind of clumsy as a child, but not clumsy enough to need to go to a hospital. So I'm not used to the antiseptic smell or the blue faces that surround me as I get into the huge building. I walk straight to the stairs, hurrying to the second floor, as a nurse instructed me to do.</p><p><br/>Niall's voice is the first thing I hear when I reach the top of the stairs. "He'll be fine, though, right?" </p><p><br/>"There's no need for worries. He's awake, and that's the best sign that nothing too serious has happened to him. You can see him, if you want?" a formal, unfamiliar and even voice responds. </p><p><br/>"Can we go first?" I recognize Zayn's voice.</p><p><br/>I walk over to them before Niall can reply. "Hi," I mumble and four pairs of eyes fly to me.</p><p><br/>"You're here," Niall smiles and comes closer. I hug him, patting him on the back, and he pets my hair softly. </p><p><br/>"He's up," Liam informs me in a happy tone, even though I already know.</p><p><br/>"Is he?" I ask, trying not to look too interested and relieved. My stomach is taking weird loops. "That's really good."</p><p><br/>The doctor leaves and Liam accompanies Zayn into Louis' room. My heart is beating loudly in my ears. Niall takes my hand and leads me to sit down in a red, overused chair against the white wall. He sits in the blue one next to mine, and leans over his knees.<br/>"Are you okay?" I ask him, hands shoved into the pockets of my jacket.</p><p><br/>"I'm alright," he whispers, smiling one of his bright, crooked smiles. </p><p><br/>"Are <em>you</em>?" he adds, raising a brow. "'Cause your face is totally white, mate."</p><p><br/>I clear my throat and look down. <em>Come up with a lie, come up with a lie, come up with a lie</em>. "He... um, my sister... my sister's... friend, my sister's friend is his sister and if something bad happened to him his sister would be sad, and then my sister would be sad, too," I stammer awkwardly.</p><p><br/>His face flashes with confusion as he frowns, and he looks at me like I just spoke Chinese. </p><p><br/>The door of Louis' room flies open after nine seconds—I counted them—and we both get up immediately. Zayn and Liam come out of the room and shut the door behind them. Their smiles are bright and carefree, so I leave a quiet, long breath escape my mouth. </p><p><br/>Niall's phone rings loudly, and he walks to the corner of the room to take the call. Zayn and Liam smirk at me and put their jackets on.</p><p> <br/>"Tell Niall thanks for letting us know. We owe him one," Liam mutters.</p><p><br/>"I will," I assure them and they smile thankfully before taking off.</p><p><br/>I lean against the wall, allowing all the tension to leave my body. It doesn't. It wraps tighter around my stomach and heart, making me nauseous. I need to see him.</p><p><br/>"Shit," Niall hisses and I open my eyes. He's putting his jacket on in a hurry, typing texts on his phone and drinking water at the same time. </p><p><br/>"What's wrong?" I question, worried by his anxious expression.</p><p><br/>He looks at me for a second and puts his phone in his pocket. "Something's wrong with my grandma," he explains while he zips his jacket. "I have to go. Tell Louis that he better get out of here by tomorrow or I'll kill him for not keeping his eyes on the goddamn road."</p><p><br/>"Do you need help?" I ask in frustration but he's already running down the stairs. </p><p><br/>I sigh and look around, realizing that I'm suddenly all alone in the silent hallway. My eyes flicker to Louis' closed door. No. No. I can't just get it and act like a friend. How do I even know he wants to see me? Maybe he's tired, exhausted. He needs to rest. <br/>But what if he needs something? What if he wants to see me? What if I can help him in any way? </p><p><br/>Before I can even realise it, I'm knocking on the door and twisting the doorknob with my warm, sweaty palm. </p><p><br/>My eyes fly around the small room. The walls are a soft tint of blue, covered with windows and pictures that make the melancholy of the place feel lighter and easygoing. There's a beeping sound covering every hint of silence around the room; it calms me down a bit. </p><p><br/>"Harry?" Louis' weak voice muses, and my head spins in the direction it came from. </p><p><br/>He's there, lying on a clear white, hospital bed. His hands are twisted up with tubes, a clear, blurry nasal cannula is hanging off his nose. There's a heart rate monitor next to him, beeping evenly. </p><p><br/>"Hi," I smile a shy smile and move closer to him. He doesn't look tired. He looks surprised and kind of lost. And beautiful. More beautiful than ever. </p><p><br/>"Hey," he whispers, nodding. </p><p><br/>I get even more closer, sitting in the velvet chair next to the bed. The heart monitor beeps clumsier now, and Louis stares at it with conscious eyes.</p><p><br/>"How are you?" I mumble, looking at him. His blue eyes are brightening up the dim room. </p><p><br/>"Fine? I guess, I don't know. At least I've beaten death," he smiles weakly.</p><p><br/>I chuckle and lick my lips. </p><p><br/>"You came?" his tone is lower now. </p><p><br/>"I... I did," I reply without lifting my head to look at him. "I don't know why, I just... I can leave if you want." The monitor next to me skips a beat. I try to hide my smile by pursing my lips, but I fail. "Or not," I add and he laughs. </p><p><br/>Louis makes it always so hard and complicated for me to read him, I'm glad that I can see how much power I have over him now. </p><p><br/>I get up and walk closer. "Niall was here too," I murmur as I examine the tubes covering his creamy skin. "He had to leave, though."</p><p><br/>"It's okay, tell him thanks, he's a really good lad," he whispers. </p><p>"Yes, I know. He's my best friend."</p><p><br/>I reach out and trace the tubes softly. The monitor starts going crazy, and I jerk away, scared I might did something. When I look at Louis' face, it's red. I smirk and get even closer this time. I run my fingers along the long tubes and his white skin, listening carefully to his heart rate turning unsteady again. I move my hands to his torso.</p><p><br/>"Stop!" he protests with a shy, complaining smile when the monitor starts beeping faster than last time. </p><p><br/>My head falls back with laughter and I can hear his playful scoffing through the still unsteady beeping. </p><p><br/>"Are you done laughing at me?" he huffs and throws his trapped hands in the air. </p><p><br/>I smile at him and sit carefully on the bed, next to his sore legs. </p><p><br/>"Are you feeling alright?" I ask him in a calmer tone, reaching out and touching his hand. The monitor keeps humming evenly. I smile. "You scared the shit out of me. Please just...be safe, yeah?"</p><p><br/>When the heart monitor skips three beats, I pretend to not notice. </p><p><br/>"I'll be just fine, Harry, really. I'm clumsy, you don't have to worry about me. What did the doctor say?" he responds, eyeing the spot where our fingers touch. He moves his thumb a bit and starts drawing invisible patterns on my palm. I don't know if it's accidental or not, or if it's because they've given him drugs to soothe the pain, but it feels nice; my stomach flutters.</p><p><br/>"He said you'll be okay. Since you didn't hurt your head and you're conscious, you're alright. It's nothing serious." </p><p><br/>He slowly nods and leans back, letting his head fall onto the pile of white pillows under his head. I watch his Adam's apple move as he swallows quietly., and the way his eyelashes flutter with every sudden, even if expected, beep that comes from the monitor. </p><p><br/>"I should leave," I mumble. My thoughts are getting out of hand. </p><p><br/>I make a move to get up, but his hand grips mine tighter and pushes me down again. </p><p><br/>"Stay." </p><p><br/>Why? Why do you want me to stay? </p><p><br/>I nod thoughtfully and try to hide my silly smile as I sit more comfortably on the bed. </p><p><br/>We talk, ask random questions, or sometimes simply stay silent because it feels okay. It's comfortable. It's a comfortable silence that roots between us and stays. Being like this with Louis feels nice; comfortable and easy. Sort of familiar. It's terrifying how quickly time passes when he's around, almost as terrifying as the fact that I can never, never get enough of him. I wish I could control time so I could freeze it and make these moments last longer, yet I'm too scared that if I was able to do it I wouldn't ever have the strength to come back to reality. </p><p><br/>My mom calls me after a bit, saying that dinner is ready. I get up from the hospital bed, unfolding our hands that somehow found their way to each other. </p><p><br/>"Goodnight," he says and smiles warmly. </p><p><br/>I smile back at him, and move closer to his face. I glance over at the heart rate monitor. "Can I try something?" I ask him, and my voice fades as I lean in and press my lips on his. </p><p><br/>The monitor starts screaming, stopping and starting again after two seconds or three, beeping like crazy and taking long loops that sound abnormal. </p><p><br/>I stop kissing him because I'm laughing so hard that I can't control my lips. I let my head fall on the curve between his neck and shoulder and try hard to stop, but it's impossible. </p><p><br/>"Congratulations, you're so funny," Louis mumbles in a sarcastic and annoyed voice. </p><p><br/>I bite my bottom lip and take a deep breath, but the sound of the monitor next to me only reminds me of before, so I burst out laughing again.</p><p><br/>"Harry!" he scolds playfully. "This is ridiculous. Go! Now!"</p><p><br/>I swallow my laughter and get off him. "Goodnight, Louis," I manage to say but my voice dies in a burst of uncontrollable laughter once I look at his face again. </p><p><br/>"I will get up from this bed one day, Styles. And I will hunt you down and beat your ass!" he screams with a smile as I walk to the door. </p><p><br/>"You like my ass!" I shout back and when he stays silent I start laughing again.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. It Never Fucking Stops.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">louis.</span>
</p><p>I hear my mum's door cracking open, and then her light footsteps that lead her to stand in front of me on the couch where I'm lying. </p><p><br/>I take my eyes off the television and glare at her face. She's pale, and her stare glossy and big. I can hear her hot breath coming out of her nostrils. I know this glare well, I've met with it a lot of times, so I close the TV and turn to face her. Unlike last time, I'm willing to let her ruin my day and put the entire blame of anything she can think of on me. </p><p><br/>"Do you even know what day it is today?" she asks with a husky voice. </p><p><br/>I think for a second, then narrow my eyes and look at her. "Monday?" I wonder, trying to play it cool. </p><p><br/>She lets out an angry sigh. "It's the third of December, you idiot!" she explains through gritted teeth. </p><p><br/>My face falls. </p><p><br/>"Today eight years ago Mark left me!" she continues, throwing her hands in the air. She sounds mad and overwhelmed, but I'm not having it. </p><p><br/>"Mark left <em>us</em>!" I correct her, getting up and standing right in front of her enormous body. "You don't even care about the damage that caused us, right? Your own fucking children!"</p><p><br/>She stands still for a bit, eyes wide, angry and bright with anticipation. Then she starts laughing. A disgusting, sarcastic, fake laughter that's coming from the back of her throat and makes me shiver. My palms start to sweat. </p><p><br/>"This has nothing to do with you!" she screams, serious and mad again. "Oh no, wait! I think it does, since you're the reason he left me!"</p><p><br/>The words echo in my head again and again and again as I stumble backward, terrified by her crazy, dangerous stare. <em>You are the reason he left me, you are the reason he left me, you are the reason he left me.</em> My back collides with the cold wall behind me, and my eyes widen, a horrified and scared chill runs through me. She grins diabolically and comes closer. My mind is boggling. </p><p><br/>She raises her hand, making me jump back and freeze. I hit my head on the wall, just when my breath catches. She wouldn't. It's been two years. She wouldn't touch me. </p><p><br/>"<em>No</em>," an irresistible force makes my mouth move. "I'm not the reason he left. I'm not. You are! You are obsessive and pathetic and...lost! You are <em>mad</em>! No one would ever want you. That's why he left, that why they both left. They couldn't bear you and your disgusting personality!" </p><p><br/>The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. She lets out a breathy and shocked gasp, hurt flashing across her face for a fraction of a second before her eyes turn black and maddening again. She comes closer, her shaking hand still in the air. My blood is pounding. </p><p><br/>I want to run. Run for miles, run away. I want to leave and disappear, fly through the breeze that's blowing from the windows. But I can't. I'm trapped. Physically, but mostly mentally. </p><p><br/>She throws her arm behind her head, making me think she regretted it, that she's gonna leave me alone. But then she brings it back in front of my face again so fast, that when her fingers collide with my cheek, the sharp pain is itchy. She hits me. She does. One, two, three, four, five times. My knees buckle underneath me, forcing me to fall into my fists, where her foot finds me. Sobs start building up in my throat but I bite my lower lip and hold them back. No, I'm older now. I'm not tiny. I can handle this. </p><p><br/>Her shoe finds my shoulder and pushes me onto the floor. I fall on my back abruptly, and my arms hurry to protect and cover my stomach and torso. Unreasonably and unsuccessfully. She hits and hits and hits and hits me, everywhere, until every part of me feels numb. I don't think. I can't. My mind is filled with nothingness. Blank. Only my heart is still racing, beating underneath my chest like an angry and thirsty lion that's too weak to fight. </p><p><br/>I blackout. I fall into cold, dark waters that blur my thoughts and vision. I fight hard to get out. I move my hands and try to reach the surface, but it's impossible. The water around me is heavy and numb. I pass out. Everything that surrounds me turns dark, and I lose my senses. The only thing that's keeping me alive is the pain that stings and burns every inch of me.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. What Is That? Oh Yes, It's Me Losing Control Over My Actions.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun hits my skin. People run into me and push me abruptly off their way; I don't mind. I don't pay attention to them. I only watch my feet as they run faster and faster with every second that goes by. They're drugging themselves along sidewalks and grassy paths, because I'm not the one moving them. They're all alone, going God knows where, but I don't stop them, I need to run. That's what I wanted to do in the first place. Run. Far and away. </p><p><br/>I am completely lost, taken over by thoughts and sounds that I'm trying hard to push away. It feels like I'm looking for something, I just have no idea what it is. I glance over my shoulder, trying to comprehend where I am.</p><p><br/>I woke up after a few hours, lying on the hard floor. I couldn't stand up. My feet were shaking as if I'd jumped off a moving train. But I made it. I got up and left—<em>ran</em>—and now here I am. Running away. Running away from home. </p><p><br/>A huge cloud hides the shinny sun, turning everything grey and miserable. I start running faster, trying to escape from the horrifying darkness, as if I could ever do that. I accidentally run into someone, crashing our shoulders together, and I fall onto the cold, hard pavement. I immediately mumble a breathy and uneven "sorry" even if I'm the one who got hurt, but the person doesn't look at me. He just keeps walking. As if I'm invisible. <em>You are invisible</em>, the voice in the back of my head reminds me. <em>I know</em>, I answer it. <em>I know.</em> </p><p><br/>I get up, strings of light have found their way back to my face, and start jogging again. But then I freeze. I slowly turn around, because I recognise this street. I glance up and then left, and there it is; Harry's house, standing steady, tall and cheerful, half of it covered with light, the other half drowned in grey darkness. I feel someone's presence near me then, so I clear my sore throat and slowly turn my dizzy and heavy head, scared that my own thought might be true. </p><p><br/>They <em>are</em> true. Harry is standing right in front of me, just three feet away, looking at me like I've grown three heads and a tail. </p><p><br/>"Louis?" he gasps, getting closer. </p><p><br/>The sound of his voice makes my knees weaker, and they buckle underneath me without order. Harry's hands are fast to wrap around my exhausted body.</p><p><br/>"Louis?" he repeats, more terrified this time, but his voice fades as if it's coming through a long tunnel. </p><p><br/>I lift my head and look at him. His brows are knotted, creating a perfect, worried V at the bottom of his forehead. His eyes are crystal green, clear, shiny, <em>safe</em>. </p><p><br/>"Take care of me," I can barely hear my own voice as I whimper.</p><p><br/>He nods, worried and confused, and throws one arm around my shoulders and the other one under my knees. He softly and carefully picks me up and holds me close to his chest. I start shaking so hard that I almost fall off his grip, but he grabs me tighter and presses me softly against his torso. His steady heartbeat drums in my ear, holding me back from losing my senses and passing out again. We get into the house and he walks up the stairs more easily this time, holding me close and sage against his warm body. He's sweaty, he was probably out for a run.</p><p><br/>"Louis, for God's sake, you're <em>shaking</em>," he mumbles anxiously under his breath.</p><p><br/><em>Don't worry about me</em>, I want to say but my jaw is trembling so hard that I can't find the strength to move it. </p><p><br/>He kicks the door of his room open and gets in, walking carefully but quickly to the bed. </p><p><br/>The second my back touches the mattress, I start crying. Hot tears are streaming down my face hard and violently, taking my breath away and making me gasp for oxygen. </p><p><br/>Harry stares at me with wide and shocked eyes, not knowing what to do. "Louis, calm down, please," he mutters, worried eyes searching my wet face, trying to come up with something to do. "It's okay, I'm here. Just breathe." </p><p><br/>I wipe the tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand and take a deep, long breath. "Distract me," I beg with a trembling and wet voice that sounds more like a shaky cry. Cry for help.</p><p><br/>He stays still, looking at me, waiting for an explanation that I'm not going to give. I know this was unexpected, but I know what I want, what I need. I need to forget, even for a second, I need to take it off my mind. And I know Harry can help me.</p><p><br/>"Distract me," I repeat, my voice breaking in a sob that forces more tears out my eyes.</p><p><br/>He looks lost and terrified, so I reach out and take his hand in mine. I bring it in shaking movements to my face and place it on my soaked cheek. I'm too weak to lift my head so he softly presses it back on the bed and leans closer. I'm almost choking, sobs escaping my mouth like a never-ending river. Harry's lips brush against mine, and the same fluttering feeling overpowers me, like an old friend I missed a lot, making me gasp either because of lack of oxygen or need for more. </p><p><br/>"Harry," I gag. </p><p><br/>"Shh."</p><p><br/>He presses his lips on mine, climbing on top of me this time, his palms keeping him steady against the bed so he doesn't have to put his entire weight on me. It's harder for me to breathe now, but Harry's sweet and moving mouth on mine soothes the pain and makes it feel good. I close my eyes, getting lost in the feeling. </p><p><br/>My tears have frozen on my cheeks, making Harry's breath cold as it blows on my skin, but I don't mind because his lips are warm enough to keep me safe. His curls are falling on my face; they're longer now, covering the sides of his head like brown, velvet curtains.</p><p><br/>He slips a hand underneath my shirt and I flinch at the sudden cold pressure against my sore chest. He kisses me harder when he realises he hurt me, swallowing my sobs and tears, and he smiles when I find the strength to spin us around, pressing him against the silent duvet. He moans on my lips; I rock my hips against his. </p><p><br/>"Condom," he mumbles in a low, distracted voice, lost somewhere between my hand on his waist and my hard length on his thigh. </p><p><br/>"Don't have," I mutter as I pull his shirt off his head. </p><p><br/>His hands find my pants and drag them down to my ankles. I jerk out of my boxers—ignoring the sharp pain that makes my beaten skin flinch under the sudden and quick movements—and climb on his lap, resting my thighs at his sides. </p><p><br/>He groans impatiently and reaches out to his nightstand. He shuffles underneath me in an awkward position as he fumbles for the pack of condoms. </p><p><br/>I lean in and lick the spot under his ear. He hisses, making my patience growing. When he comes back to me he's holding a condom in his hands; I tear it open and put it on in a hurry. My heart is beating loudly in my ears and my blood is pounding in my veins.</p><p><br/>We're doing it again.</p><p><br/>He does something unexpected then, forcing any doubts out of my mind. He grabs my arms and turns us around, pinning my exhausted body onto the soft mattress underneath my back.</p><p><br/>"Can I ride you?" he asks in a whisper as he leans in and licks my collarbone. </p><p><br/>I'd let him do anything to me right now. </p><p><br/>"Yes—<em>fuck</em>—please," I hiss.</p><p><br/>He slowly nods and presses his lips on mine. His tongue tries to slip into my mouth but my words cut off its attempts. </p><p><br/>"Lube?" I question, frowning. </p><p><br/>He shrugs. "I don't have any." </p><p><br/>"I'll hurt you," I remind him, worried. </p><p><br/>"'S' okay," he murmurs, kissing me again. "I trust you." </p><p><br/>I pause at that, caught off guard by the way the words slipped so easily, as if accidentally, out of his mouth. He doesn't seem to care, though, because he's care-freely taking my cock into his hand now and stroking it with his fist.</p><p><br/>I arch my back, shutting my eyes closed as I try to swallow a moan. I grab his arms and place him carefully just above my hard length. </p><p><br/>He bites his lower lip, eyes shut, and lowers himself onto me, letting me fill him up. I groan at the familiar feeling; his walls are not that tight anymore but he's deeper, so much deeper now. I can feel the uneasiness in his slow movements without the lube as he rolls his hips. His words echo inside my head. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>I trust you. </em>
</p><p><br/>I place my hands on his arms and guide his hips, steadily and carefully, hoping it's easier and more comfortable that way. His mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escapes his lips; I smirk. </p><p><br/>"How's it?" I ask him with a moan when he starts rolling his hips harder. </p><p><br/>"So <em>good</em>," he cries and reaches out to hold the headboard above my head. </p><p><br/>I raise my hips from the bed and follow his slow and deep movements. His knees tremble at my sides. He leans down and licks my lips with his wet tongue, making me weakly lose balance and fall onto the bed again. </p><p><br/>"Oh my lord," he hisses against the corner of my wide opened mouth; I hit his spot. </p><p><br/>I smile and thrust deeper, raising my hips from the mattress again. He bites his bottom lip hard, trying not to be loud. His cock is standing still and hard against his lower stomach, pressing against his hot skin. </p><p><br/>The muscles on my thighs tighten and start pulling, so I raise a hand and shove it into his brown, messy, sweaty curls. I pull. A sound that I've never heard before escapes his lips, making my knees shake. </p><p><br/>"Again," he demands, voice weak and lost. </p><p><br/>I pull again. </p><p><br/>"<em>Augh!</em>"</p><p><br/>"Fuck, Harry," I moan and slow down my pace. </p><p><br/>"No, keep going. Fast," he trembles, pressing his eyes shut again. </p><p><br/>I obey, thrusting deeper into him, feeling his walls around me tighten and tag at my length. He rolls his hips left, so I move mine right, pressing against his movements. We come together, cum splattering on his torso and neck and filling the condom inside him.</p><p><br/>He falls onto his back immediately, moaning and panting, and I reach out and wipe some cum off his stomach with my finger. I lick it, eyeing him as I do it, and his eyes widen. </p><p><br/>"Oh my God," he whispers, returning his gaze at the white ceiling above us. </p><p><br/>"You have to ride me more often." </p><p><br/>"You bet I will."</p><p><br/>I chuckle and pull the condom off, before throwing it in the trash can next to the bed. His hands wrap around me before I even return to the bed, dragging me on top of him. I don't protest. I lay my hand on his unevenly breathing chest, listening to his heartbeat slowing down and returning to its normal pace.</p><p><br/>He stays silent for a bit, but I know it's coming. It still catches me off guard when it does come, though, because it sounds—for once more—like he actually, truly cares. </p><p><br/>"Why were you crying, Louis?" His voice is steady now, whispering into my hair. I know he knows why.</p><p><br/>I lift my head and rest my chin on his. He smiles a crooked smile, placing his big hands on my naked waist and pulling me closer. I kiss his lips, and then press my index finger against them. </p><p><br/>"Shh, sleep," I whisper.</p><p><br/>He frowns, worry flashing across his terribly beautiful face, but I ignore it. I lean in and kiss his full and swollen lips once more before placing my head on his naked shoulder. His hand wraps around my exhausted body, holding it in place. Holding everything in place. </p><p><br/>He mumbles something just before I drift off, but it's too low to hear, and I'm too sleepy to ask.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When my eyes open again, they're met with shadowy darkness. I move a bit, trying to find the light and some oxygen, and it takes me a moment to realize that I'm underneath Harry's warm and breathing body. I fall back onto the bed, concentrating on his calming breath on my neck and ear. My eyes feel heavy and I start drifting off again. </p><p><br/>Until the main reason I woke up in the first place returns; an itching pain runs down my torso and thighs. I shudder at the cringing feeling and carefully shake Harry off my uncomfortable body. I roll to my back, inhaling clean air. A sharp pain burns my chest as I move my lungs in an attempt to fill them with oxygen, making me hold my breath and stay completely still.  </p><p><br/>I let the air slowly out of my nostrils and stare down at my naked body. Pink and blue spots are covering up the entire skin of my torso and legs. My eyes widen as I sit up and reach out to touch the bruises. My own skin jerks away from my touch when the same burning pain flashes through me. </p><p><br/>These weren't here before. I would have seen them. </p><p><br/>I let a heavy sigh escape my lips and fall back onto the bed. Harry clears sleepily his throat next to me, eyes still shut and heavy. I stare at him, watching his eyelids tremble as if he's watching a dream. A small smile flashes across my face when he mumbles my name under his breath and rolls to his back. </p><p><br/>I fix aimlessly my eyes on the ceiling for a heartbeat, gaining strength, and then my feet are on the floor. Sharp pain washes over me again, and I steady myself against the window, fighting not to fall down or hurt myself even more. </p><p><br/>"Louis?" Harry's serene voice mutters behind me. </p><p><br/>I turn around, watching as his eyes fall onto my body and pop out in shock. </p><p><br/>"Louis?" he repeats in a frustrated and severe voice and gets up to stand in front of me. I stay still. </p><p><br/>He brings his hands to my face, slips them down to my bare arms, chest and stomach. I wince at the pain his touch arouses on my burning skin, but don't move. I lean into his worried and surprised touch, letting my body relax under it. </p><p><br/>"These can't be from the accident, I would have seen them before," he thinks out loud. "She did this to you, didn't she? Your <em>mum</em>?" His face cringes visibly as the word leaves his mouth. "Is that why you were crying?" </p><p><br/>The only answer he gets from me is the tear that breaks through my lashes and lands on my jaw. </p><p><br/>He runs a hand through his messy hair, sighing loudly, and turns back to me. Before I can even proceed his fact movements, his arms are wrapped around my exhausted body. My eyes fly shut as tears start running out of them again, and I shudder at the sudden pain, but it doesn't last. It evaporates, several heartbeats later, replaced by Harry's soft, hot skin against my weak, aching one. Pain is gone. For a fraction of a second, there's just relief. </p><p><br/>He breaks the hug and moves me to the bed, his cautious eyes leaving me only to watch out for my shaky and unsteady steps.</p><p><br/>"Look at me," he demands softly, using his index finger to turn my head in his direction. "Talk to me." </p><p><br/>I stare at him weakly, blinking every time a heavy tear leaves my eyes. </p><p><br/>"Louis," he tries again, scooting closer, "it's okay, I promise, just say something."</p><p><br/>I want to, I want to say but I can't find my voice. My blurry eyes fall onto my body again; I gasp, and it sounds like a drowned moan. </p><p><br/>A soft blanket is sooner or later wrapped around my naked arms and torso; I flinch at the sudden contact and crawl deeper into the soft material around me. </p><p><br/>"It's fine," I whisper, and it feels like breaking through the surface and coming back to reality. </p><p><br/>He looks surprised, but I can't tell if it's because of the words I spoke or the fact that I spoke them. He touches my thigh with his cold fingertips; my skin awakens. </p><p><br/>"It's fine," he repeats, an emotional grin flashing across his sleepy face. </p><p><br/>I smile back at him, a broken and small smile that forces more tears out of my eyes. </p><p><br/>His expression turns serious and cautious again. "Please talk to me," he begs.</p><p><br/>I swallow my tears and turn my body to face him entirely. "It's okay, Harry," I assure him.</p><p><br/>"It doesn't look like it is," he mutters frustrated, shaking his head in disbelief.</p><p><br/>"Then stop looking," I say with a crooked, weak smile. The joke swirls around the room and melts disappointedly on the floor. Silence. </p><p><br/>"Louis, you're fucking purple. This is insane. How often does it happen?"</p><p><br/>I reach out and press my finger against his full and moving lips. "Shh," I hush him. "Some other time."</p><p><br/>He plants a soft kiss on my finger and takes my hand into his, grabbing his finger around my wrist and pulling me closer. I sit on his lap, ignoring the butterflies that are flying in my stomach for now, and crawl into his bare chest. His arms wrap tightly and softly around me, pressing me as close as possible, breath heavy and even against my naked shoulder. It feels intimate. It feels like something. Like there's more than what we both think, or admit, there is. </p><p><br/>"I'm here, okay? You can talk to me, or you can not talk to me. I'm here anyway, just know that," he mutters slowly on my shoulder, and I shiver. </p><p><br/>We stay like that for a bit, until loud, messy noises start coming from downstairs. He leans back a little and I lift my head to look into his green eyes.</p><p><br/>"Mum's probably making breakfast. Wanna go eat?"</p><p><br/>"What are we gonna tell them?" I ask him quietly. "About me being here."</p><p><br/>He thinks for a bit, his brows pulling together into a perfect frown. "Leave it on me," he murmurs with a sly smile. </p><p><br/>I chuckle, pressing my fist softly against his chest. "Aight, master." </p><p><br/>His eyes widen at the last word, but the expression is soon replaced by a huge grin that flashes across his face. He licks his lips. "Later," he whispers quickly.</p><p><br/>I swat at his arm because I didn't even fucking mean it that way, but all he does is wink at me and pull me out of his lap; a cold breeze runs through my exposed body as soon as he's out of reach. We dress up and walk down the stairs in silence, until his mother's cheerful voice finds us before we even reach the bottom of the marble stairs. </p><p><br/>"Harry, honey! You up?" she sings as she walks out the kitchen to meet us.</p><p><br/>The red dishcloth she's wiping her hands with almost slips out of them when she sees me standing beside her son. Her eyes widen in a surprised and caught off guard expression, but she quickly composes herself and clears her throat. </p><p><br/>"Louis, sweetheart? I'm so sorry, I had no clue you're here," she mutters in a calm and smooth voice that makes me feel welcome.</p><p><br/>She reminds me of Harry so much that I force my eyes to look away. "Yeah it's...um..." I murmur tongue-tied, trying to find the words. </p><p><br/>"Louis came over yesterday when you were all gone to help me out with a History test. He was so tired he fell asleep, and I didn't want to wake him," Harry says in a confident and husky voice. </p><p><br/>Anne's face brightens. "That's beautiful! I made waffles, come on!" she squeals and turns her back to us before she heads for the kitchen. </p><p><br/>"Smart," I comment on his little speech, glaring at him out of the corner of my eye. </p><p><br/>He chuckles lightly before softly grabbing my shirt and dragging me toward the kitchen. The beautiful smells overpower me and make my stomach growl.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. It's All Fun And Games Until You Kiss On A Kitchen Counter.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mrs. Twist—or Anne, since she insisted on me calling her by her first name—makes sure there's not one second of silence while we eat. She talks about random things and asks questions as if my miserable and meaningless life is the most interesting thing she's ever heard of. I give her short answers that don't really apply to her questions, but when she brings up college and graduation, I keep my mouth shut. I look at Harry when she says that he wants to study music, that he plays the guitar, that he sings, and he smiles a crooked smile without moving his eyes to look at me. She turns to me then, of course, and Harry gives me a confused and concerned look when I mumble that I'm planning on staying here after graduation. She doesn't push the subject any farther, though, acknowledging the fact that it makes me uncomfortable. </p><p><br/>Eating breakfast with Harry feels nice. It's hard for me to explain it, but it's a strangely beautiful thing to look next to me and see him there; so normal, so calming. Like he fits there, like that's how it's supposed to be. He walks in the room—he exists—and my heart beats differently.</p><p><br/>"Well," Mrs. Twist—<em>Anne</em>—sighs as she gets up, "Gemma is at your place, Louis, did you know? I'll go pick her up, I'll be back soon. Stay for lunch if you want, there's no problem."</p><p><br/>Before I know it she's gone, and silence takes over the perfectly clean kitchen. </p><p><br/>Harry turns to me. "You aren't going to college? Why?"</p><p><br/>I glower at him, swallowing quietly and taking one more bite of the half-eaten waffle on my plate. </p><p><br/>Harry sighs and runs an almost shaking hand through his hair. "You need to talk to me. Maybe I can help you," he murmurs, and it sounds like he's talking to himself.</p><p><br/>"It's fine, Harry, it's nothing," I lie. </p><p><br/>His eyes fly to me like I just confessed that I killed his entire family. "No, no it isn't fine."</p><p><br/>I groan and get up, taking my plate with me and carefully placing it into the sink. </p><p><br/>He's behind me before I even turn around, raising my shirt with his cold hands. It takes me a second to realize what he's doing, so I don't move when his fingers run through my beaten skin. The touch doesn't hurt or burn; it's gentle, almost soothing. </p><p><br/>"That's not okay," he whispers in my ear with a husky voice, pressing softly the pad of his thumb against a bluish bruise on my stomach. </p><p><br/>I flinch at the touch and spin around to face him, forcing his hands to fall off my shirt. They don't leave my body, they grab my waist, hold me up and make me sit onto the counter behind us. He steps closer, wraps my legs around him, and places both of his hands on the counter next to my thighs.</p><p><br/>I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "So," I say, pulling him closer by the collar of his white shirt, "you are a guitarist now? And a singer?"</p><p><br/>He smirks and looks down, getting shy. "Nah. I just love music."</p><p><br/>"You want to study it," I remind him, pressing my thighs closer to his warm skin. </p><p><br/>"Yes," he replies with a nod and lifts his head. "And you want to stay here and work at a fish shop."</p><p><br/>"What's wrong with fish shops?" I ask him, playing offended. </p><p><br/>He moves his head in disbelief, a sly smile covering his face, reaching his eyes and, somehow, making them look greener under the yellow light coming from the window behind us. My hands move to the collar of his shirt again and pull him closer; I brush my lips with his, surprising more myself than him. When I pull away, his eyes are even greener. </p><p><br/>"What was that for?" he asks, raising a brow that fits perfectly his surprised smile. </p><p><br/>"Dunno," I shrug and hop off the marble counter. </p><p><br/>He doesn't move, so there isn't an inch of space between our bodies. He leans in, his palm slightly caressing my cheek. My stomach flutters, unwelcomed butterflies growing into it again, and his lips find mine for more, so I give in, slipping my tongue elegantly into his mouth. I move my feet, forcing him to take several steps back, and lead him to the wall across the room, where I press him against the hard surface and slip my hands under his shirt. </p><p><br/>It doesn't feel wrong this time. </p><p><br/>He breaks contact, taking my hand into his and lifting my face with them, forcing my eyes to look at his. </p><p><br/>"You can't do this all the time, this isn't fair. We need to talk," he mutters, panting. </p><p><br/>I chuckle and stand on my toes to kiss him again, but he pulls back, hitting slightly his head on the wall behind his back. </p><p><br/>"It isn't my fault!" I smile playfully. "You just get distracted too easily."</p><p><br/>"That's not so mature, you know."</p><p><br/>"Are <em>you</em> talking of maturity, Styles?"</p><p><br/>"Sex doesn't solve everything."</p><p><br/>"Wasn't trying to solve anything here."</p><p><br/>He rolls his eyes and spins us around, pinning me against the cold wall. His lips find mine once more, in a persuasive way that should really be illegal, and he kisses me until I gasp for air. His arrogant chuckle is cut off by the cracking of the door.</p><p><br/>Anne and Gemma walk into the kitchen, their gossipy murmurs feeling the thick air. Harry takes a tiny step back, grabbing my hand with his big one and hiding our tied grips behind his back; I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling. </p><p><br/>"Louis, hi!" Gemma's excited voice reminds me to come back to reality. </p><p><br/>"Hi, Gemma," I greet her with a smile. "I should probably get going."</p><p><br/>"It's so bad you can't stay," Anne pouts. "Your mum was just finishing with lunch when I got there. Such a lovely and kind woman, Louis. It really upsets me she'll be out of town for Christmas."</p><p><br/>Harry's body clenches next to me, grip tightening around my fingers. </p><p><br/>I smile a fake smile at Anne. "Yeah, that's bad. I'm glad you got to meet her."</p><p><br/>"We should go upstairs and get your stuff. Make sure you don't forget anything," Harry says in an indifferent and cold tone next to me. </p><p><br/>"What stu-" —there's a hard squeeze on my hand—"Oh, yeah, my stuff." </p><p><br/>Harry doesn't say anything, just releases our hands and starts walking toward the stairs. I purse my lips and give an uncomfortable nod to Gemma and Anne before going after him. He walks up the stairs so fast that I'm always three steps down. </p><p><br/>"Harry," I hiss, but he doesn't listen.</p><p><br/>He closes the door once we're in his room and hurries to sit down on the bed. I walk to him and place my hand on his thigh; his skin burns mine even underneath his grey sweats. </p><p><br/>"Harry," I repeat in a lower voice. </p><p><br/>"No, Louis, it's not fine. But you know what? This is your mum, your family. I shouldn't even be this involved if you don't want me to be. I'm sorry."</p><p><br/>"It's fine." It actually doesn't really bother me that he cares. It feels nice. </p><p><br/>He purses his full lips and his green eyes flicker to me for a fraction of a second. They're sparkling with regret and guilt, so I can't help but plant another kiss on his pink lips. I pull away before he can respond, leaving him pouting a perfect, puppy pout. I chuckle and stand up. </p><p><br/>"Okay, now give me some books you don't need to take with me. You didn't really think that part of your smart plan through."</p><p><br/>He sticks his tongue out but moves to the shelves covering half his wall. He hands me some school books and a literature one named Wuthering Heights—<em>go figure</em>—giving me a harsh and warning look when he sees me rolling my eyes. </p><p><br/>I walk to the door of his room and grab the knob. </p><p><br/>"Don't go," his voice says behind me in a desperate whisper. </p><p><br/>"What?" I turn around to face him. </p><p><br/>"Don't go," he repeats, reaching out and grabbing my hand. </p><p><br/>"I can't not go, Harry, it's my house," I frown, confused. </p><p><br/>A pained expression flashes across his thoughtful face, making the pieces click together in my brain.</p><p><br/>"Is this because of my mum?" I almost shout.</p><p><br/>"I just don't want you to get hurt again, that's what this is about." His voice is barely hearable. </p><p><br/>"Harry," I place the books on the bed and take his face into my hands. "It's gonna be fine, yeah? Trust me. See you Monday." </p><p><br/>I place a soft kiss on his lips, sliding my tongue into his mouth just once, and then take a step back. I walk to the door again, the pile of books hard against my chest my heart is beating like crazy under.  </p><p><br/>"Take care," he says just before I get out.</p><p><br/>"Will do," I promise him with a warm smile that stays on my face all the way back to my house.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. There Are No Words For This.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time goes by. Fast...or not. I barely spend any time at home, where seconds feel like hours and minutes like days. I hang out at the library a lot, or—<em>of course</em>—at school in the mornings. Or at Zayn and Liam's flat. Or at Harry's. That's a thing now: Harry. </p><p><br/>The thing is...he's always there. Always ready to face me, always ready to kiss me or stroke the small of my back in an attempt to calm me down. He's always worried about me, even when I'm not. Even when I swear there is no one in the world I want to talk to, that I hate everyone—even myself—there he is. Like a mythical creature, reaching out and cupping my cheeks with his palms. "It's gonna be fine. Just talk to me." Of course, I never do. I always fight back, say that he can't solve every single problem that bothers me, and he always says he wants to try. </p><p><br/>So I fight every time the almost unbearable urge to ask him why. Why does he do that, why does he care so much, why did he visit me that day at the hospital, why is he so terribly stubborn, why does he always kiss me as if he doesn't know how to stop, why is he the most caring and kindest person I have ever met, why does he make me feel that way, why is he so supportive. All I know is that I'm probably too scared to know the answers. All I know is that I'm probably not ready to face them. </p><p><br/>So when he comes to my place for the first time, when he meets my mum and gives her a warm, real smile that makes his eyes sparkle, when he falls onto his knees and kisses the twins' cheeks playfully, when he greets Lottie and hugs Fizzy like he's her older brother, I don't stop him. I let him in, welcome the familiar warm feeling his presence gives me, and accepting the fact that this is my life now; a happy, cheerful life, that drives me crazy and makes me want to bang my head into a wall. So, basically, Harry. Basically, Harry is my life now. It's strange, knowing you feel something so strong for someone that makes sense only when you're with him, yet when you're together you don't feel the need to explain it. Because that person doesn't ask, as if he already knows what it is, what it feels like.</p><p><br/>Because that person has pink cheeks, always flushed with kindness and shyness. That person has brown hair that sparkles and gets greasy easily. He has the most beautiful lips that kiss softly and gently and—<em>God</em>—green eyes that somehow manage to look greener every time I look into them. That person has soft, big hands that curl around my body in a way that feels like they have always belonged there, and a huge chest that feels like a shield of reality. That person feels like someone I know, someone I can recognise, maybe from a past life, that's here to save me.</p><p> <br/>That person opens my drawers—ignoring arrogantly and completely my annoyed protests—finds my drawings, and cancels plans on having sex just because he wants to spend the entire evening examining them. That person <em>forces</em> me to draw him, handing me a piece of paper and an overused pencil, and smiles a cute, lopsided smile that my poor skills could never do justice to. That person stares at the final sketch for twenty minutes straight, eyes glowing and lips pursuing, as if it's a matter of life and death. That person <em>kisses me goodnight</em> when he leaves—always hugging me tighter than I expect—and whispers several see you tomorrow's that find me later when I'm trying to fall asleep to trouble my exhausted brain, accompanied by shiny smiles and bewitching eyes. That person has managed to feel like a harbour, an anchor, a safe place. His arms are big and strong enough to keep me safe from any fear or danger; he makes me feel complete. No. <em>He</em> completes me. He sometimes holds me so tight, that it makes me feel like my heart isn't in pieces anymore. </p><p><br/>** </p><p><br/>"You don't <em>see</em> it?" Liam asks as he chugs his beer down. </p><p><br/>I sip on mine, my brows pulling together in a confused frown. "See what?"</p><p><br/>We're talking about Harry—as we usually do. I feel so lucky that I have Liam and Zayn. It's not even because of the whole Harry thing, it's because I know that I can count on them whenever, whatever. They're like a safe place, too, but not exactly. They don't feel like Harry. No one does. </p><p><br/>"The way he looks at you," he explains as he pops open another beer. "He has, like, this soft, I'm-sort-of-obsessed-with-you-but-in-a-healthy-way look. Just like you do." </p><p><br/>"What?! I don't look at him that way!" I protest, throwing my free hand in the air. </p><p><br/>"Pff," Zayn scoffs as he moves to sit on Liam's lap. "Of course you do." </p><p><br/>I fix my confused gaze somewhere in between them, trying to examine the information. I know Harry looks at me at school. I feel it, most of the time, but I also know it because my eyes are already on him when he turns his head to face me. I have just never thought he wants to have anything more with me than... physical contact. </p><p><br/>"Seriously, Louis, you can't believe he wants you just for the sex?" Liam continues, reading my mind. </p><p><br/>"It's not even that," I murmur, still lost in my own thoughts. "He's my friend."</p><p><br/>They both start laughing uncontrollably, holding their stomachs and biting their lips to make the sound more decent, but it doesn't work. Their laughter fills up the room and makes me feel kind of uncomfortable, but they're laughing so hard that I end up chuckling too, anyway. </p><p><br/>"Stop!" I hiss with a smile. </p><p><br/>It takes them a while but they calm down and compose themselves. Their laughter echoes in my ears for a long time after they stop.</p><p> <br/>"Louis, I don't know, seriously, I have no clue what you're like when you're with each other," Zayn says, shrugging. "I just know and see how he acts around you in public. It's like he's waiting for you to go there and propose to him."</p><p><br/>Liam makes an agreeing sound, nodding his head and pointing at Zayn with his beer. "Yes, exactly that," he adds with a smile. </p><p><br/>I groan and drink the remaining of my drink. It's not that what me and Harry have is friendly; friends don't know what it sounds like when the other person moans your name, and that's what me and Harry have. Or so I thought, at least. I don't know if it's sexual. I don't know if the butterflies are sexual, or more. Can I picture myself with Harry? Well... yes. I <em>have</em> pictured myself with Harry. Maybe that's the problem. </p><p><br/>Maybe it's the impact he has on me. Maybe it's because he's helped me see things, he's—even though I can't admit it—helped me through so much shit that it'd be difficult to deal with if I was alone. And when I'm with Harry I'm not alone, I don't feel alone, I know he's there. He always holds my hand or tells me I smell nice. He talks, about anything, in attempts to distract me and take my mind off things that upset me. Harry brings out the best in me. He makes me see myself in a better way. So I don't really care about the butterflies, when I really think about it. It's a nice feeling, after all. Maybe I don't know why they appear—not completely out of blue, since they're always there, ready to fly and loop whenever I think about him—but I know now that I don't mind. It's nice. It's painful sometimes, but it makes me feel alive. Almost as if—</p><p><br/>"Oh my God," I say loudly and stand up. </p><p><br/>Two gazes flicker to me, eyeing my shocked movements. </p><p><br/>"Oh my God, I am in love with him!" I shout, my eyes widely staring into nothing. </p><p><br/>All the smiles, the blushes, the craving, the butterflies, the missing, the need, the fear, the longing. <em>Him</em>. It's all him. Because of him, and for him. All for him.</p><p><br/>Liam scoffs—a blurry sound in the distance—and gets up, patting my arm and pulling me into a hug to which I don't respond because my entire body feels numb and lost. </p><p><br/>"Was about time, mate," he says into my neck in a sarcastic tone. </p><p><br/>Zayn chuckles in front of me and slightly raises his hand to press his beer can onto mine. That's when I realise I'm still holding it, so I take a tiny step back and sit back down onto the armchair, placing inaudibly the can on the small table next to me. </p><p><br/>"I'm- How? Did- Does he- Did you-" I stutter, blinking rapidly and forcing my body to come back to reality. </p><p><br/>Because my mind is running, running with outrageous information that I don't have enough time to proceed. It's all filled with Harry, of course, but everything feels so...sudden. Sudden but clearer. Everything is clear now. I am in love with him.</p><p><br/>"Is he- How am I- Should I-" I continue, running a hand that I barely feel through my hair. </p><p><br/>"Louis, calm down, dude," Liam giggles, tightening his until now unacknowledged grip on my shoulder. </p><p><br/>Am I shaking?</p><p><br/>"What's so shocking?" Zayn asks with a worried voice. </p><p><br/>"I don't know, I just... I had no idea. How could I not notice? I'm... I'm<em> in love with him</em>," I wince when the words leave my mouth. It feels strange. It feels like I always knew it—since the library, since that day in the library—but was never brave enough to admit it. I'm not brave enough now, either. My feelings for him are so strong right now that I feel like I'll never be brave enough. </p><p><br/>"I have to see him," I mumble in a lost voice. </p><p><br/>"Yes!" Liam shouts next to me. "Go see him!"</p><p><br/>I get up and grab my jacket in a hurry. When I turn to them, their eyes are glowing with excitement and glory. </p><p> </p><p>"I'll... Thank you," I mutter confused, and almost run to the door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When I get in the house, the first thing I spot is Gemma's head. She's laying on the couch, her back on me, with headphones in her ears and a laptop sitting on her lap. It looks like a school project or something formal enough to need concentration, so I don't bother her; I head straight for the stairs. </p><p><br/>The marble floor feels swell underneath my feet as they drag slowly and carefully along it; my heart is beating so loudly that I can feel it in my throat. </p><p><br/>I swallow quietly and grab the knob of his door, pushing it down and stepping into the shiny room. </p><p><br/>Harry is lying on his bed, one arm holding his phone up in front of his eyes, and the other one placed as a pillow underneath his head. His eyes flicker to me automatically, and the smile that flashes across his face makes my stomach flutter. </p><p><br/>Hi, butterflies. </p><p><br/>He's on his feet before I can process it, moving in blurry, inaudible movements, getting closer and closer, too fast for my brain to comprehend it. His hands find my face and secure it with his thumbs, lips pressing passionately against mine, just once. It doesn't last long, but it's enough for the butterflies to find their way back into my stomach, especially now that I finally acknowledge them. They swing and loop, flying around, awakening parts of my body that I had no idea existed. My heart skips two beats when he sighs heavily in relief; as if I'm oxygen, as if he's been waiting for me, needing me. </p><p><br/>"Missed you," he whispers on my lips as he presses his forehead on mine. </p><p><br/>I keep my eyes closed, enjoying the way his sweet breath rises and falls calmly, caressing my cheek in a soft and warm breeze. I purse my lips to hide my smile, unsuccessfully. </p><p><br/>"Hi," I greet him with a low, cheerful voice as I slowly part my eyelids. </p><p><br/>His face is so close to mine, so I take the opportunity to look at his characteristics better. There are black, tiny spots in his green irises. </p><p><br/>He walks to the bed and falls down onto his back. </p><p><br/>"What did you do today?" he asks as he reaches out and takes my hand in his, pulling me toward him on the bed.</p><p> <br/>I lie next to him and bring our tied hands in front of my face. "I was at Zayn and Liam's," I mumble, giving him a short glare. "It was fun. What time is it?"</p><p><br/>He snorts slightly at the fact that I've lost track of time and takes his phone into his free hand. "Two-thirty," he answers me even though I can see it myself. </p><p><br/>The yellow light coming from the one and only window lights up the room, but it doesn't feel like it's afternoon. It feels like early in the morning, in spring. It feels like a beautiful day in a beautiful life. </p><p><br/>"Why are you here so early?" he continues, scooting closer; his long legs wrap around mine and he closes his eyes, resting his head on my shoulder. </p><p><br/>I feel like screaming. No. I feel like kissing him. Maybe I'll scream for a bit and then kiss him. Yes, that sounds about right.</p><p><br/>"We played football with the boys and then drunk some beer. I was bored... had nothing to do, so I came here," I lie. My hand flies to his head and my fingers start playing with his soft curls that soften and move playfully under my touch. "Are you tired?" I ask when a low, long moan leaves his closed mouth. "Do you want me to go?"</p><p><br/>He can probably hear the pace of my heart rate increasing, because he puts his hand on my stomach and presses me down onto the bed, making sure I can't move. </p><p><br/>"Don't go," he mutters sleepily. "'S not that I'm tired. Just...just stay like that. If you want. It's calming." </p><p><br/>I sigh quietly and slowly, and let my body relax under his homely and cozy touch. It feels peaceful; right. I wonder what he's thinking.</p><p><br/>"Do you believe in soul mates?" he asks after a beat of comfortable silence.</p><p><br/>I frown, surprised. "I don't know. What's a soul mate anyway?" </p><p><br/>He lets a heavy breath out and tilts his head up, green eyes sparkling when they find their way to my half-lidded ones. He looks so pretty.</p><p><br/>"Well," he begins in a deep, excited voice. "It's pretty self-explanatory. It's the mate of your soul, like your other half, but less cheesy." He pauses and smiles a dimply smile when I giggle slightly. "It's that person who knows you better than anyone, better than you even know yourself. Your comfort person, your safe place. Your soul recognizes them—like an old friend that has come to save you. It doesn't even have to be romantic, your soul mate can be your friend, too. But it is romantic, most of the times. The feeling is too strong and powerful to not be romantic. It's that person that looks at you and you think...," he pauses, looking deep into my eyes for a few seconds before continuing, "'I wanna lay with you on a roof in the middle of August and stare at the stars while holding your hand.' <em>That</em> kind of person." </p><p><br/>He lays his head back down onto my shoulder, satisfied with his little speech, and takes a long breath that lands on my chest like a feather.</p><p><br/>"I don't know," I mumble, speechless. "I don't, I guess." </p><p><br/>"You have to find them. You'll know it when you do," he replies with a soft voice. </p><p><br/>"Have you?" I ask him, maybe too harshly or quickly. "Found them?" </p><p><br/>There's a long, never-ending pause that makes my heart ache and my palms sweat. </p><p><br/>"I have," he sighs softly and shifts closer to me. </p><p><br/>A  cold breeze breaks through the half-open window and swirls around the room. It's supposed to make me feel cold, but it doesn't. Harry's body is warm and comfortable against mine. </p><p><br/>So when the quiet words leave his mouth, when he breaths silently and opens his lips long before speaking, I know it's not the cold that makes me shiver, but the words he speaks and the way he speaks them. </p><p><br/>"It's you," he adds in a barely audible whisper, without moving an inch, and my heart skips a beat.</p><p><br/>*** </p><p><br/>"Yes!" Des shouts with a victory chuckle. </p><p><br/>"NO!" I cry dramatically and let the PlayStation controller fall into my lap. </p><p><br/>"Louis, I told you, dad is really good at this," Gemma repeats for the tenth time without taking her eyes off Fizzy's polished nails in her lap. </p><p><br/>"No one is better than me at football," I give her the same reply as before, pointing at her and arching my eyebrows. </p><p><br/>Harry chuckles quietly and sips on his tea. I let my eyes land on him for a beat or two, because I know that I won't be able to move them away if I keep them on his face for any longer. </p><p><br/>"Let's go again!" I insist, turning to face Des. </p><p><br/>He scoffs with a grin and gets up from the couch, making it shift uncomfortably underneath me. </p><p><br/>"It's late for me, kiddo," he groans as his eyes fly to the clock above the TV. "Ten thirty?" he hisses. "I'll go brush my teeth." </p><p><br/>I hold back a peal of laughter and force it to come out as a soft chuckle that flies around and calms the sudden tension. </p><p><br/>"It was really nice meeting you, Louis. I have seen Fizzy a couple of times here, but not you. You should come over more often, it'd be a pleasure." </p><p><br/>I nod at him, smiling a respectful smile as he walks out of the living room.</p><p><br/>"Come on, I'll play with you," Harry says and gets up from the armchair he's been sitting in the entire afternoon.</p><p><br/>"Are you sure, Styles?" I arch an eyebrow, ignoring the suddenly loud beating of my heart. "I'll win."</p><p><br/>"Oh, fuck off, Tomlinson," he scoffs and takes the second controller into his hands. His thigh touches my knee and my heart goes mad. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>What is wrong with me?</em>
</p><p><br/>We start playing, ordering our players to move fast and smart, while I yell angrily at the TV and he just smirks at my annoyed remarks. I win. I score three times and he scores just once. He pouts and gives me a killing look, before getting up and walking to the stairs. I chuckle lightly at his childish reaction and tell Gemma to get ready so we can leave. She nods, and I head up the stairs, after Harry. </p><p><br/>His green eyes stay closed when the click of the door breaks through the silence of the room. I walk to him, his body laying calmly on the bed. </p><p><br/>"Harry?" I say in a softer voice than I meant to.</p><p><br/>He hums in response, and I can't help but scoot closer and lie next to him. My body immediately awakens and relaxes, resting in the familiar by now way it does when I'm around him. He inhales a loud, deep breath that makes me open my eyes in worry, pretty sure something's wrong. I lean in and swipe two locks of curly hair off his hot forehead, making his eyelashes flutter under the sudden touch. </p><p><br/>"What happened?" I frown even though he can't see me, and rest my palm on his forehead. </p><p><br/>His eyes fly open; there's a slight melancholy wrapped around the shiny green of his irises and I know this isn't about the game. He doesn't reply, just raises his head from the bed and plants a small kiss on my lips. My eyes fall shut, his impact on me out of control. I only want and want and want, more and more and more. My hand presses him softly back onto the bed as I climb carefully on top of him and press our lips together. A soft hum coming from the back of his throat fills the room as my hands fly to his face and hold it safely between them. His fingers caress my cheek in soft and pattern-y movements; it reminds me of the night he kissed me at the third party. </p><p><br/>"Niall knows," he whispers against my mouth with a breath. </p><p><br/>I pull back just a little to stare into his eyes. "What?"</p><p><br/>"Niall knows about...us. He guessed it, and I couldn't lie to him. Sorry." There's something in his tone that makes it clear that this isn't why he's down; it feels like he only just remembered about that.</p><p><br/>"No," I say without thinking, shaking my head. "That's fine, I don't mind." I trust Niall, he's my mate, he's a good lad. "What did he say?" </p><p><br/>Harry chuckles lightly at the memory. "That I'm probably getting my ass well fucked." </p><p><br/>I laugh with him, pressing my palm against his chest. "Well, that you do." </p><p><br/>His laughter fades slowly, his face relaxes as his eyes stare deeper into my blue ones. He raises a hand and strokes my cheekbone so softly, that if there wasn't an electric shock running through me every time we touched, I wouldn't feel his skin on mine. </p><p><br/>"What did I do to deserve such a smile?" he asks in a daze and lifts his head to kiss my lips. </p><p><br/>My entire body shudders at his words; I press my mouth on his in need and desperation and run my fingers up and down his arm. </p><p><br/>Now, right now, I could maybe tell him about the butterflies. I could stop him and ask him about what he said yesterday, about me being his soul mate, and I could tell him I think I'm in love with him. I could tell him about the way he makes my skin feel, about his eyes and his smile, about the way I'm okay when he laughs or simply chuckles. I'd lift my hand and caress every inch of his angelic face as if it's my belonging. I'd kiss him again and again and again, only stop to breathe oxygen; something that feels useless and meaningless whenever he's near. I could tell him about this, too. I could tell him about everything. I could make him happy, maybe even a tiny bit close to the way he makes me. If I was stronger—if I had the strength to take my panting mouth off his; I would. </p><p><br/>But now he's breathing loudly against the skin on my cheek and his hands are softer than ever where they are wrapped around my waist, and I can't stop. I'd rather die than take this moment away, I'd rather lose him forever—even if that thought stings my heart and makes it feel too heavy for my body to hold it in place—than stop kissing him. <em>He</em> feels like oxygen right now, and I can't help but shudder at the thought of leaving my lungs empty and thirsty. </p><p><br/>"Louis," he gasps breathless.</p><p><br/>"Harry."</p><p><br/>There's a light knock on the door, and Fizzy's voice is fast to accompany it. </p><p><br/>"Hey, it's been twenty minutes, are you coming?" she asks, but my head is too dizzy to find meaning behind her words. </p><p><br/>"I'll be out in a sec!" I exclaim in a somehow steady voice. </p><p><br/>The next thing I hear is her footsteps thudding against the marble floor of the stairs. I turn to Harry. The melancholy in his eyes is gone, so easily replaced by joy and...happiness. Yes, that looks like happiness. </p><p><br/>"See you tomorrow," he mumbles and, just for a brief second, the melancholy is back. </p><p><br/>I lean in and softly bite his bottom lip before giving him a full, hard kiss. </p><p><br/>"I'll miss you," I whisper and blush when I realise I said the words out loud. </p><p><br/>A sly smile flashes across his face that makes me want to say the words again and again, lean in and kiss him again—kiss him forever—and don't stop until it's enough. </p><p><br/>"I'll miss you too," he replies quietly, and the words sound too real and honest; my heart skips a beat and then beats so loudly that I look down, checking to see if it's still in place.</p><p><br/>I climb off him and run a hand through my probably messy hair. His lips are on mine before I can even realise that he's standing up; thumbs hardly pressed against my cheekbones. He lets go, regret clear in his face the moment he does.</p><p><br/>"Take care," he says before I slip out of his dim lighted room. </p><p><br/>In the car, Fizzy is too silent for me to ignore it. </p><p><br/>"What's up?" I ask in a concerned voice, taking my eyes off the road for a fraction of a second. </p><p><br/>I can't see her face, it's hidden under the dark in the car that the street lights are not bright enough to clear out. Her head snaps at me as if she's been expecting the question. Her mouth falls open, ready to say something, but she closes it and fixes her eyes out the window again. </p><p><br/>I raise my eyebrows in wonder but don't pressure her, knowing she'll tell me if it's something really bad.  </p><p><br/>The deep blue sky above us is not dark enough to hide the grey clouds, covering every bit of its black surface, as they always do. Small drops of rain start falling from the sky and splashing against the windows around us.</p><p><br/>"Are you in love with him?" her trembling voice whispers, breaking through the calming sound of the thudding rain. I round a corner, trying to concentrate on the road. She doesn't stop. "You are in love with him, aren't you? With Harry?" The question is soft and doesn't sound like it needs to be answered. I know she knows. </p><p><br/>I park in my usual spot in front of our house and open the door. I leave it flying open, eyes focused on the empty street in front of us, but not really looking. I force my feet out of the car, head heavy and dizzy, and I look at my sister through the rolled up window as I close the door behind me. Her eyes are on me, a concerned frown covering her pretty face. I don't say anything, I just nod at her, a nod that forces a tear out of her eyes. Hot drops start streaming down her pink cheeks, making me widen my eyes in surprise.</p><p><br/>"He's in love with you, too," she gasps through sobs, the sheeting rain and the closed door of the car drowning her soft voice.</p><p><br/>I smile a small smile and walk to her door. I open it slowly and wrap my arms around her; her shaking body sends vibrations through mine. </p><p><br/>"I know," I whisper into her hair and kiss her neck.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Butterflies.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"It's definitely easier than I thought," Lottie confesses with an exhausted sigh. </p><p><br/>"Yes, I know," I agree and hand her the sheet of paper with the solved math exercises. "You just have to divide it."</p><p><br/>She takes it into her hands and smiles at me. "Thanks, Louis. You're really good at this."</p><p><br/>I chuckle. "It's nothing. Do you need help with anything else? Because I have to go."</p><p><br/>"No, no," she says, shaking her head. "Go. Thanks again."</p><p><br/>I nod and get up with a sigh. I walk to the door and grab my jacket from the hanger. When I touch the doorknob, her soft voice fills the room again.</p><p><br/>"Hey," she whispers, and I turn around. "You...um... You've been different lately. Happier. I like that."</p><p><br/>I smile with a small grin. "Thank you, baby."</p><p><br/>**</p><p><br/>"You need to play me something!" I scream at his face for the tenth time, the corners of my mouth pulled up into a playful smile. "I have never heard you playing the guitar or even singing! This is illegal!"</p><p><br/>He chuckles lightly and shifts in his chair across me. "No."</p><p><br/>"Yes!" I protest with a giggle, reaching out and taking his guitar into my hands. I walk around the table and sit on it, right in from of him, his guitar hard against my chest. "This is a library, Harry," I gesture to the dim room around us. "This place is full of art. So pull that shy look off your face and play me anything."</p><p><br/>He huffs with a smile and takes the guitar from my hands. His long fingers thud musically against the strings as he adjusts the instrument on his lap and torso; he looks at me for a brief second and hides his smile with a purse of his lips when he sees my excited face. He positions his fingers elegantly on the strings, and a gorgeous sound swirls around the room when he drags them gently across three of them. </p><p><br/>"<em>Wise men say</em>," the words leave his mouth in perfect harmony with the melody coming from the guitar sitting on his lap. My jaw falls open at the magical, velvet sound of his voice. "<em>Only fools rush in. But I can't help, falling in love with you</em>." </p><p><br/>I recognise the song as the strings obey his soft and exquisite movements that push them slightly but strong enough to move them gently, making sounds that echo in my head for long after they vanish.</p><p><br/>"<em>Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help, falling in love with you?</em>" His eyes leave the honey colour, classic guitar only to find mine and lock in them, as his lips move heavenly, singing and singing and singing, until the sky outside the huge windows turns black; cloudless. </p><p><br/>He sings more than one song, of course, and I end up hopping onto the wooden table behind me and bringing my legs to my chest, my arms wrap around them and my head rests on my knees, my eyes watching his every move. He covers songs I have and have not heard of, songs that match his voice and make it sound as if it's made to bless people's ears. I adjust my breathing to the beat of every song, trying to inhale and exhale as quietly as possible, hating to break the colourful silence around us. </p><p><br/>It's me, Harry, and his guitar. In a word full of people, in a word full of trouble and noise, it's, for once, quiet. He's here, whispering melodies that rest on my ears and make me shiver. He's here and that's all I've ever wanted and needed. Him. </p><p><br/>When he drums his fingers along the strings slowly and makes them make a soft sound that announces the end of another song, I hop off the hard table, put the guitar away, and kiss him. </p><p><br/>I move my lips against his in the way I always do, savouring every sound he makes, melodies from seconds ago whispering in my head in a low murmur. I press my forehead against his after a long moment, refusing to open my eyes and face reality. This is my reality. This is what I wish reality was. </p><p><br/>"What's wrong?" Harry whispers, the words flying between the small space between our faces and resting on my lips. </p><p><br/>"That was pretty," I comment in a quieter voice, but he's close enough to hear the emotion behind my tone. </p><p><br/>His thumb finds my collarbone and caresses it softly. "Yeah?" </p><p><br/>"Yeah." I force my eyes to open when I feel the sudden need to look at his face again. He's staring at me, his face close enough to mine that when I kiss him again I don't have to move at all. He hums on my lips, sending a soft vibration through my entire, longing body. I shift in his lap, my toes barely touching the marble, hard floor underneath the chair we're sitting on.</p><p><br/>"You inspire me," I admit and feel my cheeks redden. I close my eyes again, trying to hide away.</p><p><br/>"You want to draw?" he's fast to ask. He's too good at this.</p><p><br/>"Well, that's not what I said," I say with a chuckle, "but that would be nice, yeah." </p><p><br/>He wraps his arms around me and lifts my body up, my feet feel numb when they touch the floor. "Draw," he demands with a serious voice and a sly smile that makes me chuckle. His eyes are sparkling. </p><p><br/>I walk to my backpack, my body freezing the second I get too far away from his, and get my sketchbook out. I didn't have one since last week, when Harry forced me to buy this. It's nice. I've already used four pages, covered them with little sketches that randomly popped up in my head. </p><p><br/>I take a pencil from the metal pencil case next to the green table lamp and look at the empty paper before looming over it and start scratching the pencil across it in uneven lines. </p><p><br/>I draw a butterfly. I make the wings long and elegant, covering most of the space on the hard, yellow paper. I add highlights and shadows, darkening spots that I feel they need to be darker. Harry's eyes are on me the entire time, I can feel them burning the skin on my hands, face. I draw black spots on the bottom of the butterfly's wings, decorating every inch of blank space, until there's nothing else to do or add. </p><p><br/>I lean back, looking at it with a skeptical expression on my face. It looks as if it's about to come alive, drag its wings off the paper and fly around the room. </p><p><br/>Harry's standing behind me before I realise it, noticing only when his long fingers reach out to touch the sketch in careful, gentle movements that fit the elegancy of the drawing. "Wow," he breathes on my shoulder. "That's...wow, Louis."</p><p><br/>I smile a small smile and shiver at the way he says my name. "Take it home with you if you want," I say quietly. It looks like it belongs to Harry, anyway. It looks like it was made for him. Both so beautiful and magical.</p><p><br/>He sits on the chair next to mine and takes the paper into his hands, his eyes running on it as if he discovers something new with every second that passes by. "You made it? You just made this? In twenty minutes you made this?" he exclaims in surprise. Enthusiasm flashes across his face. "Louis, that's what you should do! That's what you should study! You're talented, can't you see? This is what you're born to do!"</p><p><br/>My eyes widen as he speaks the words, almost in shock, but I don't get any time to answer because he parts his lips again. </p><p><br/>"It's not late to apply to a University! You'll get in, of course! And I know you love doing this, Louis," he dangles the piece of paper in front of my face. "I have seen your face when you draw. This is what you should do." </p><p><br/>I inhale sharply and look away from his excited face, forcing my gaze to fall into my lap. "Harry it's not that simple, I—" I mumble but he's on his knees and wrapping his fingers around my wrists before I can finish. </p><p><br/>"No, Louis," he interrupts. "Look, just think about it, okay? Think about it and let me know, let me help."</p><p><br/>I purse my lips before licking them and nod to him. He nods back, gets up and pulls me into a soft hug. Every muscle of my body relaxes under his touch, my head resting between his shoulder and neck. </p><p><br/>"Thanks," I whisper meekly and stroke his arm with my fingers. He's wearing a hoodie, but I can almost feel the goosebumps that my touch arouses on his skin. </p><p><br/>"You know, I could get that tattooed," he nods at the drawing on the table next to us and even if I can't see his face I can feel his crooked smile. </p><p><br/>"Nah," I laugh and push slightly my fist against his hard torso. "You aren't brave enough." </p><p><br/>"Is that a challenge?" he asks offended and breaks the hug to look at my face.</p><p><br/>I roll my eyes and throw my backpack over my shoulder. "Is it?" I tease him in a cheerful voice as I turn the light of the table lamp off. </p><p><br/>Darkness covers every bit of the room, and it takes my eyes a while to adjust. Once they do, I start walking to the door. </p><p><br/>"You think I can't handle some pain, Lou?" he raises a brow as he follows behind me. "You think I'm that weak?" </p><p><br/>I giggle under my breath without replying, just pushing the door open and getting out into the cold air. </p><p><br/>"Can I call you Lou, by the way?" he asks as he stands next to me and puts his jacket on.</p><p><br/>"Not if you're expecting an answer."</p><p><br/>"You got that from <em>Pretty Woman</em>."</p><p> <br/>"It's still the truth." </p><p><br/>"Fine."</p><p><br/>We walk home in silence, and when his cold fingers find mine halfway to his house and wrap around them, I don't argue. I let him lead us home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Sure As Hell Didn't See That One Coming.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Louis, we have a problem," Harry's troubled voice reaches my ear through the speaker. </p><p><br/>I inhale loudly. "Let me guess. You caused it?" I tease and nod to Liam when he mouths "Is that Harry?"</p><p><br/>There's a low, embarrassed chuckle from the other side of the line that makes my stomach jump up in an uncomfortable loop. I'd bet he's scrunching his nose.  </p><p><br/>"Kind of," Harry replies in a wobbly voice.</p><p><br/>I sigh and shift anxiously in Zayn's armchair. "What happened?" I demand worried. God knows what he's done this time. </p><p><br/>"No! Don—ah!—come here! Can you please just stay here for a little while? Louis is coming," Harry murmurs away from the phone. </p><p><br/>I sit up, my eyes worryingly fixed on the carpet underneath my feet. "Harry what did you do?" I ask him in a terrified tone. </p><p><br/>"Nothing, it's...um... Can you come over, please? Maybe?" He sounds really fucking hopeless. "I mean, it's not a really big deal but I need help and you were the first person I thought of."</p><p><br/>"I better not come there and find a bunch of dead bodies, you little troublemaker. I will be there in ten." I hang up before he gets a chance to reply. </p><p><br/>Interrupting Zayn and Liam's conversation, I get up from the armchair and put my jacket on. Two pairs of eyes flicker to me, confusion and wonder hovering over their long, pretty eyelashes. </p><p><br/>"It's...um..." I search for the right words. "Something's up with Harry, I have to go—no! not sex this time, I swear. It's something pretty bad, I suppose. Didn't tell me."</p><p><br/>They both chuckle slightly and smirk at me. "It's fine, L," Liam nods in agreement. "Go ahead, be a saviour. Don't forget the party tomorrow."</p><p><br/>I spring out of the room in fractions of seconds, closing the door inaudibly behind me and then hurrying to my car. Once I'm inside, I dial Harry's number, desperate and curious to know more about his new, noisy trouble; he doesn't pick up, so I turn the engine on and pull into the driveway.</p><p><br/>The sky runs dully above my head, grey clouds covering most of its never-ending surface, turning its soft blue colours into an emotionless grey. It's not that cold today, to my surprise, but the weather is watery and tedious, so the streets are almost completely empty, adding to the melancholy of the exhausting weather. Suddenly seeing Harry seems more necessary than it did before. </p><p><br/>I park in front of his cheerful house and get out of the car just when a few drops of cold, salty water start falling from the silvery sky, turning the dark grey of the road into a black, exquisite colour. </p><p><br/>I knock on the door but my fist twists around the knob before I get an answer. There's no point in waiting; it's still early, Harry is probably home alone, and even if he wasn't, his entire family has made me feel welcome enough to not need to knock before getting in. </p><p><br/>I step into the house, my trainers dragging noisily against the hardwood floor underneath them. Harry gets up from the couch and turns to me. God, I missed him so much. </p><p><br/>"You're here!" he says in an excited tone, smiling awkwardly. </p><p><br/>"Hi," I wave my hands in front of my face excitedly before I let my smile and tone fall in a serious voice. "What happened?" </p><p><br/>He scratches the nape of his neck uncomfortably and glares behind his back, deep into the living room where I can't see. "Look, it's...it's nothing, really. Do you want to go upstairs? We can cook something if you're hungry, or just hung out. Upstairs. Or we—"</p><p><br/>"Harry is that a <em>dog</em>?!" I cut him off when a black, fluffy...thing stretches its white paws and steps behind him. Yes, I'm pretty sure it's a dog. </p><p><br/>Harry's eyes widen and he looks behind his back and down on his feet. "Shit!! Ah! I told you to not move!" he hisses the dog. </p><p><br/>The animal whines and falls onto the ground, folding his knees underneath his black nose. </p><p><br/>"Did you- Do you- Is-" I stutter, lost.</p><p><br/>"Ah," he sighs and bends down. The dog crawls into his lap, scratching his nails playfully against his thigh. Harry's long fingers dip into his black fur and the dog purrs pleased. </p><p><br/>"Are you insane? You got a dog from the streets? Does your mum know? Gemma? Someone? Are you mad?" I stutter fast.</p><p><br/>He looks at me with a crooked smile. "I prefer creative...or kind." He bends down again, taking the dog into his big hands and caressing his sides. His fur is completely black, only his paws are covered in white and when he turns around and lies on his back, I can see the white colour covering the fur of his neck, too.</p><p><br/>I stare unblinking at them, trying to comprehend what the actual fuck is happening here. I mean, it's a dog. A dog. I don't have a problem with dogs, but...it's <em>a dog.</em> </p><p><br/>"Harry?" I prompt in a wobbly voice. </p><p><br/>Harry clears his throat and gets up from the floor, leaving the dog wandering around the small living room aimlessly. </p><p><br/>"<em>Look</em>," he begins and takes a huge step toward me. He's all of a sudden four feet apart from me, and my heart skips a beat. "I was at the school's parking lot, right? And, like, I get into my car and turn the engine on, and then I see a black thing out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head, because it's <em>black</em>, you know, and I see...him!" His hand gestures to the dog who's now licking something off the floor. I cringe and turn my head to look at Harry again. "I get out of the car and walk to him, really carefully because you never know if it's gonna attack or not. But he's the cutest, Louis! He's so quiet and clumsy, and so little, look at him!" his face is covered in excitement as he turns to the dog and starts walking toward it. <em>Him</em>. Anyway. </p><p><br/>A strange feeling overpowers me. It feels like anger, at first, but as it settles into me I have enough time to examine it better. It's jealousy. I'm jealous. It stings and burns the skin covering my chest, giving me a headache. I frown and look at Harry as he pulls the dog into his lap and starts stroking his hairy back. <em>No</em>. No, no, no, no. I can't be jealous of a dog! I can't envy a fucking dog! The feeling grows stronger when the little fluffy thing raises its head and licks Harry's face, making him chuckle the way he always does when I say something funny. I almost run there and throw it away from him.</p><p><br/>"Are you going to just stand there?" Harry's voice asks, his eyes flickering to me. </p><p><br/>The dog whines, as if it wants Harry's attention back, so Harry is fast to look down at him again and run his palm across his back. I wonder if it would whine if I threw it against a wall. </p><p><br/>I swallow the hard lump in my throat, pushing my freaky thoughts away, and walk closer to them. <em>For Harry's sake, for Harry's sake</em>, I keep repeating to myself. </p><p><br/>"We should find him a name," the excited sound coming from Harry's mouth makes me shudder.</p><p> <br/>"<em>We</em>?" I repeat after him as soon as the words enter my mind. </p><p><br/>His glamorous smile falls. "Oh... I, I thought if you wanted, maybe, I don't know, we could have him together. It's a silly idea, anyway, but I thought it'd be nice. He reminds me of you, maybe that's why." </p><p><br/>I don't know what my face looks like, but my expression is probably freaked enough to make him even more nervous when he lifts his eyes to look at me. </p><p><br/>"Not that we <em>are</em> anything, I mean," he goes on, stuttering, tripping over words as if they're too heavy for his tongue to carry them out. "It's just a dog, of course. No responsibilities. Or, it can be just mine and yours only when you want it. For like...company. Like a child. No! Not a child! I mean, a child, kind of, because it needs food and water and a place to live, but not <em>our</em> child. Like-"</p><p><br/>"Harry!" I interrupt him with a smile. "It's fine. You can have the dog if you want, and I can help you take care of him, if that's also what you want. I don't mind." </p><p><br/>"Yeah?" his voice is full of hope, as if it's a matter of life and death. </p><p><br/>"Yes," I chuckle and bury my fingers into the fur of the dog. "What about Mark?" I ask him. </p><p><br/>"Mark? What is he? A mini-market employee?" he's quick to fight back. "What about David?"</p><p><br/>"David?!" I laugh mockingly. "Seriously, Harry, if you name this dog David, I will sue you." </p><p><br/>He rolls his eyes, fighting back a smile. "Fine. What about Sherlock?" </p><p><br/>"No!" I groan and pull the poor dog closer to me. I stare into his black eyes, inhaling deeply when he fixes his eyes on mine, too. "What about Clifford?" I whisper, lost into his dark gaze that reflects mine.</p><p><br/>Harry's eyes widen in surprise, then move to look at the dog. "Clifford sounds nice," he admits with a crooked smile. </p><p><br/>I lick my lips and smirk at him. "I'm good at this."</p><p><br/>He rolls his eyes two whole times, exhaling disappointingly, and gets up. "Sure," he says sarcastically. "Now let's go upstairs so I can give you a blowjob, shall we?" </p><p><br/>It's my turn to roll my eyes, even though my own feet force me to stand up the moment his words reach my ears. "With a kid in the house?" I say. "What kind of a pervert, creepy parent are you?"  </p><p><br/>He chuckles and grabs the bottom of my t-shirt, pulling me closer to his warm body. He doesn't even give the dog a second glance before he starts dragging me up the stairs with fast and hurried steps. </p><p><br/>We're in his room in seconds, and he's on his knees even faster. </p><p><br/>"Woah, boy!" I exclaim, raising my hands in the air. </p><p><br/>"I've just missed you," he explains, and there's something behind his voice that doesn't feel naughty. It feels honest and deeper than him taking my belt off with thirsty movements. </p><p>One month ago, I'd say that I fucked him yesterday and that he's needy and pathetic. I would be dumb and a total jerk. Now I just close my eyes and let him touch me like he only knows how.</p><p><br/>My sweats and boxers are on the floor in a beat, hanging on my ankles and leaving my legs and crotch bare. I bend down, having waited and been patient for too long, and press my lips on his. Oxygen feels my shaking lungs, as if I'm kissing clear air after what feels like forever; his palms cup my cheeks with a soft <em>clap</em>. He gasps into my mouth, and I harden against his shoulder. </p><p><br/>It doesn't last long, and neither do I as he runs his lips along my length, sucking my skin and going deeper and deeper each time. I tug on his hair, my back stroking the cold surface of the door behind me with sharp and sudden movements. Hisses and moans leave my lips, making the entire feeling stronger and more powerful as his own moans send vibrations through me. He doesn't even bother to take me off his mouth as I come, swallowing everything I have to give. He plants a kiss on my low stomach before pulling my boxers back up. I should probably shower, but I'm too tired. </p><p><br/>We walk slowly to the bed and get under the covers in silence. It's almost night, the sky dark and cloudy out of the closed window. </p><p> </p><p>"Do you want anything or are you tired?" I whisper as I lie down next to him. </p><p><br/>He shakes his head, his eyes closed. </p><p><br/>"Is everything alright?" I ask when I realise he's been quiet for longer than he usually does. </p><p><br/>He's staring at the ceiling, gaze empty and reasonless. I don't get an answer.</p><p><br/>"Hey." I tug on his arm and pull him toward me. He doesn't answer again, just scoots closer and lifts my arm with his head, placing his warm cheek on my stomach. My now wrapped around his shoulders hand strokes his jawline softly. </p><p><br/>"Hello? Earth to Harry Styles?" I whisper playfully. </p><p><br/>A low chuckle makes my torso vibrate; my smile tightens. Making him laugh feels better than it probably should. </p><p><br/>"Are <em>you</em> alright?" he asks me, catching me off guard.</p><p> <br/>I frown, even though he can't see me. "Yeah, I'm alright, why?" </p><p><br/>His head snaps up, and when his eyes meet mine, his pained gaze softens. "I saw the bruises."</p><p><br/>"They're old," I reply quickly and fix my eyes on the ceiling. </p><p><br/>"A week old? Two weeks old?" he fights back with an edge in his voice.</p><p><br/>I stay quiet, breathing evenly and slowly. "Three days old." </p><p><br/>I can hear his breath catching and his jaw clenching as he raises a hand to stroke my cheekbone. "Louis," his voice comes out as a shaky whine.</p><p><br/>My eyes fly to his. "It's fine, love. It really is. I'm getting used to it."</p><p><br/>"You shouldn't."</p><p><br/>"I am, though. There's nothing we can do about it."</p><p><br/>"Isn't there?" </p><p><br/>"Harry," I snap. Then my expression softens again. "You just gave me probably the best blowjob you've ever given me, don't ruin it." </p><p><br/>He smiles crookedly and lowers his head back onto my stomach. My breath catches at the sudden contact. "Was it that good?" he brags and I can almost feel his smile. </p><p><br/>"Mhm. Now sleep. School tomorrow."</p><p><br/>"Don't go," he begs in a whisper. </p><p><br/>"What?" I ask. </p><p><br/>"Don't leave. Tonight. Stay."</p><p><br/>"But Lottie, the twins-"</p><p><br/>"I'm sure Fizzy will take care of them. She'll know you're here," his voice is so soft and needy that it sends a shiver down my spine. </p><p><br/>I want to tell him that Fizzy knows, but I don't even know what it is that Fizzy knows. She knows I'm in love with Harry, which Harry doesn't. And she knows Harry's in love with me, which I technically don't. So there's nothing, again. As always, I'm left with nothing. </p><p><br/>"Stay," he breathes sleepily, and I shiver again. "I have nightmares when you don't."</p><p><br/>"Okay," I answer him, even if I'm pretty sure he's already asleep. "Sleep, baby. I'm not going anywhere."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. As If You're The Moon.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry's morning alarm breaks through my unconsciousness and makes my eyelids flutter open. There's too much light, so by the time my eyes adjust the irritating sound has stopped, and Harry is dragging me closer to him.</p>
<p><br/>
"No," I groan softly but my body allows him to crawl on top of me without any protests. "Don't turn it off, we have to go to school."</p>
<p><br/>
Harry makes a sleepy and goofy sound. "No," he mumbles sleepily in my neck. "'M tired. Let's sleep in."</p>
<p><br/>
"Harry, we have four days of school left, and then it's Christmas break. Come on."</p>
<p><br/>
"No!" His arms tighten around me and don't relax the tiniest bit, even after he notices I'm not moving. "Stay here. You smell really nice, and you're comfy." </p>
<p><br/>
<em>Aah. </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
I sigh loudly and move my hand to his hair, digging my fingers into the soft curls that cover his head. He hums pleased, and everything insides me feels warmer and joyful. </p>
<p><br/>
He falls back asleep sooner or later, leaving me all alone to deal with my crazed, wandering thoughts that I, as always, find extremely hard to control. </p>
<p><br/>
We have a dog. We. Have. A. Dog. Us. We. Plural. Harry <em>and I.</em> Together. A dog. </p>
<p><br/>
The unwelcome reminder sends a shaky shiver down my straight spine that makes my breath catch. </p>
<p><br/>
I know I have commitment issues; Harry is one of the people who made me see that. I also acknowledge the fact that me and Harry are not—and will probably never be—in a relationship. It's fine. That's all we do after all; have sex. And even if it sounds toxic enough to make me cringe whenever I think about it, I have accepted it. But I'm in love with Harry, and if that's the only way I get to be with him, I'll take it. Dear God, I would pick an hour with Harry over a century without him. I'd rather die in his arms than fight to stay away. Death seems to matter only when I'm away from him. Harry is my safe place. I know it. I'm here. I've found it; found him. After years and years of torturing researches and lost battles, I'm here. And it feels great, familiar. It feels like there was never a before, never a life in misery, a dark time. He has erased it all; healed it. He's the antidote. He makes everything else feel worthless, but so much worthier at the same time. Everything else disappears when he's close, physically or not. I've heard of it. I've heard of that love that finds you once in a lifetime, of people who slip into your life just to save and heal you. And I know Harry is that to me. I'm here, and I've been here before, in a past life. And I don't want to leave; not now, not ever. I want to stay, it feels like I'm supposed to. It's nice here; warm and easy. Comforting. He's Harry. My Harry, in so many ways. And I'm his. I will gladly be his for the rest of my life; the rest of forever. And even though I'm sure I haven't given him anything, haven't saved him the way he's saved me, I know he wants me to stay. I can feel it when he touches me, it's that glimpse behind his eyes when he looks at me. It's there, begging me to stay a little longer. But I'm not leaving, not until he asks me to.</p>
<p><br/>
Pretty sure he's sleeping, I lean down and press my lips on the flushed skin behind his ear. "I love you," I whisper and the shivery words feel weird, but easy to say. I want to repeat it, say it and then say it again, a million times, but I don't. I fall back onto the bed and concentrate on his calm breathing that caresses my shoulder like a feather. </p>
<p><br/>
I fall asleep.</p>
<p><br/>
**</p>
<p><br/>
When I wake up again, I can tell it's near noon because of the yellow gold light that shines through the curtained windows. Harry isn't on top of me anymore—his hot breath hits my shoulder softly now—so I slowly get up and put my clothes on. </p>
<p><br/>
I take a minute to look at his face before leaving. It's peaceful and dreamlike, as always, covered in deep sleep that flutters his eyelashes playfully, as if he's watching a dream. His lips are parted by quiet, even breaths that escape them slowly and steadily. The painful urge to lean down and kiss him burns my stomach and makes my head dizzy, but I don't let it take control, too scared I'll wake him. </p>
<p><br/>
I rip a sheet of paper off the notebook on his desk and search noisily for a pen in his annoyingly perfect organised drawers. </p>
<p><br/>
<span class="u">
    <em>Had to leave.</em>
  </span><br/>
<span class="u">
    <em>Call me. </em>
  </span><br/>
<span class="u">
    <em>L.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
The handwriting is messy and hurried but I don't think it twice as I carefully place the paper on the pillow I was sleeping on and slip silently out of the room. I put my shoes on once I'm in the quiet hallway and head for the stairs. </p>
<p><br/>
A low humming is coming from the kitchen, someone—Anne—murmuring a cheerful melody. She locks eyes with me when I walk by the kitchen; I stop dead in my tracks and give her the warmest smile I've got. </p>
<p><br/>
<em>Shit.</em>
</p>
<p><br/>
"'Morning," I mumble with a raspy and sleepy voice that seems to be the only sound in the house. </p>
<p><br/>
Her smile deepens. "Came over to help Harry with a school project and accidentally slept here again?" she says, and somehow there's only sympathy behind her sarcastic tone. </p>
<p><br/>
I walk into the bright room and sit on the table across from her. She smiles a pity smile when I sigh troubled. Next thing I know, her arms are wrapped softly around my torso. </p>
<p><br/>
I can't help but think that she knows. Of course she does, just like Fizzy, and probably Gemma, and Niall. <em>We're too loud</em>, as Zayn tends to put it. </p>
<p><br/>
"Louis, darling," she sighs into my neck, "how could I ever thank you enough?"</p>
<p><br/>
I blink the unwelcome tears the sudden affection gives me away and lean back to look at her face. "What do you mean? There's nothing to thank me for. I should be the one thanking <em>you</em>, really."</p>
<p><br/>
"Ah," she breathes, her gaze fixed on something behind me, even if it seems to be looking at somewhere far, far away from here. "There are so many things you probably don't know, Louis. I'm not the one who should tell you, but I'm really grateful you're in Harry's life."</p>
<p><br/>
I push her farther away, just to make her look at me. When she does, I frown. </p>
<p><br/>
I've always wondered what's going on with Harry and his family. Always too happy, too supportive, too...right. Something that I've never had, something I have always wanted and fought for; something I never got. It seems to be so easy to be yourself around here; a dreamlike place, a safe one. And I feel it, too; I feel the warm hospitality whenever I'm here, maybe that's why I love this place so much. Always so welcoming, so open. It feels too good to be true sometimes, but on the other hand, who am I to judge? I've never had a home, a place to feel safe and okay in. Maybe that's how it works, how it goes; easy, healthy. </p>
<p><br/>
"Harry has...<em>had</em> been struggling with depression for two and a half years. Fourteen to almost seventeen. It was tough, I don't want to talk about it, and if he hasn't told you anything then me doing it for him is pretty messed up, but I want you to know. He's okay now, he's been for a while. But the thing is, since you've been around, he's happy, you know? Like, not just not-depressed okay, but cheerful, open, easy. He laughs. Harry never laughed before. That thing he does when he chuckles—the nose scrunch—do you know that he does that only when you're around? I've noticed. He was healing, searching for himself, and he found you. I think that says a lot." She takes a deep, dry breath that doesn't last longer than two brief seconds. "I had missed it so much, seeing him like this, the true him, my son. I feel like—I know—you helped him bring this back, so I owe you. A big one, for my son. I don't know what you two have, and it's none of my business—I know—but if it is what I think or what it looks like it is, then thank you, Louis. I've never seen him like this with a person. So tied, so brave. You've made him be someone that he's never been; like you bring out a better side of his best self. A new Harry. I love that Harry, baby; everyone does. I think you do, too."</p>
<p><br/>
Hot tears are streaming down her face by the second she closes her mouth, and I can't seem to find the right muscles to open mine. I don't know what to say; I have no idea. Where to start, how to start, and how to finish. What to explain, what I should explain. It's all a mess, as it's always been, so all I do is let a tear fall on my flushed cheek and then swallow hard, trying to push the lump in my throat down. </p>
<p><br/>
"I'm so sorry, I must have shocked you. It's alright, he's fine now, because of you. You fought for him without even knowing it, his feelings for you saved him. It seems like you're his person, his someone. You...you match. I've never seen this before. You spend a lot of time here, and I've seen you together. It's like there's a force that pulls him to you and vise versa; he can't stay away. You are in perfect synchronisation. You move, he moves, you smile, he smiles, you stand up, he stands up. It's beautifully and terrifyingly exciting. He talks about you a lot. It's the two of you against the world. He loves you, Louis. In a way, in any way you want or need him to, he does. He adores you, it seems, if I judge by the way he looks at you. As if you're hanging the stars on the sky, as if you're the moon itself. That's love; I've known of it. Keep him. My son is a keeper."</p>
<p><br/>
All I do is nod. I nod my shaking head the feels too heavy to focus on anything, and walk out of the house. I hear her words in my head all the way back, as if she's sitting right next to me and repeating them all over again. The feeling they cause me—whatever it is—burns me and chokes me. Or maybe it's the tears. Am I crying? </p>
<p><br/>
<em>He's okay now, he's been for a while. I feel like you helped him bring this back. I've never seen him like this with a person. So tied, so brave. You fought for him without even knowing it, his feelings for you saved him. It seems like you're his person, his someone. It's like there's a force that pulls him to you and vise versa; he can't stay away. Like you bring out a better side of his best self. As if you're hanging the stars on the sky.</em>
</p>
<p><br/>
As if I'm hanging the stars on the sky.</p>
<p><br/>
As if I'm hanging the stars on the sky.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Hello Hell, Nice To Meet You.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry doesn't call. The week goes by, Christmas break starts, and it's like Harry never existed. Like I made him up inside my head. He doesn't show up at school either, and I'm about to drive to his place when Fizzy tells me he's alright. </p>
<p><br/>"He was out for a run and came back just when I was about to leave. He seemed a little bit off, to be honest, but he's fine."</p>
<p><br/>The words almost bring tears to my eyes. What happened? Did I do anything? What if he wasn't sleeping and heard me saying I loved him? What if it freaked him out?</p>
<p>The pain doesn't come at first. I survive the week just fine, only worrying slightly about him and why he doesn't get in touch with me. It only hits me when I realise it's three days until Christmas, and I haven't seen him in a week. Pain washes through me and flies straight into my heart that stops beating for a good five seconds. </p>
<p><br/>He knows. He heard me. He doesn't love me back, as Anne said. When he said I'm his soul mate, he meant it in a friendly way. Harry wanted a <em>friend</em>. I could just sit my ass down and give that to him; not ruin it, as I always do. </p>
<p><br/>But heaven knows I love Harry and heaven knows I don't have the strength to fight for him. I should. I should call him and tell him that I can be what he needs me to be, that we can forget everything and go back to being friends, or whatever we were. But I can't, because it would be a lie. I want more from him than he's willing to give me; and I've never been good at lying, especially to Harry. I don't want to hurt him by pretending, and I'm so tired of doing so. I don't want to act like he means less to me than he actually does. Not again. Not ever. I always knew that this—us—would end someday and somehow, so maybe that is it. Maybe we're over, whatever we were. Maybe we weren't anything to begin with. Maybe, and probably, it was all in my head. </p>
<p><br/>It didn't feel like that though, and it's not fair to pretend it was worthless. We were so good together, in so many different ways. We clicked. He was fire and I was gasoline. My body felt like it was meant to hold his; and my body misses him, too. Terribly. I almost don't feel it, it's made my skin numb. It's uncontrollable. Endless. Worse than the physical pain I experience almost every day. This kind of pain burns my torso and gives my eyes an itching feeling that doesn't go away until they're closed. It feels like there's a hole in my chest that only grows and grows with every minute that passes by. Harry is the only person who can pull the edges of the hole in and close it again. Harry can heal me. </p>
<p><br/>It's now that I realise how empty my life is; now that he's gone. I draw more—in poor attempts to drown out my killing thoughts—but there isn't even school or homework to distract me, so I spend more time at Zayn and Liam's. Zayn and Liam. It feels like they're patiently watching me drowning, and all they do—all they can do—is stare at me with eyes full of pity. I don't blame them, not the tiniest bit. I'm a wandering ghost full of melancholy and stress that looks like it's here without its will. It feels like all I want and need is to talk about it, but the boys are too scared to ask, and I find the topic too painful and fragile to bring it up.</p>
<p><br/>So the days go by, and there are no signs of recovery. I barely get any sleep, my dreams are nightmares that wake me up panting in the middle of the night. I've never felt like this before, and I never thought one could actually be so miserable, so...aimless. That's the best word to describe me: aimless; there's no purpose in anything I do. </p>
<p><br/>At first, I get mad. Angry at myself that I ever let Harry take control of my life like that. That I let him spread his roots all over my existence and take over it, as if it was his. Because if I wasn't so ignorant or impulsive, I wouldn't have let him, wouldn't have fallen for him. I would have known better than to watch him sleep at night and draw him, and call him mine. I should have known he'd leave; everyone does, anyway. </p>
<p><br/>Nostalgia comes next. Homesickness. Everything reminds me of him. Green eyes, curly hair, brown hair, dark blue jeans, guitars, music, drawing, books, libraries. I could go on for the rest of eternity. It's like seeing a part of him everywhere I look; he's everywhere and nowhere at the same time. But I miss him so much that I am unable to despise that feeling. I can't see him, so seeing things that remind me of him is almost enough. The pain that accompanies them though, is unbearable and unbelievable, it's too much that I can't find a way to cope. I'm so scared I'll run out of memories that it hurts more. I grasp tightly on the moments I have with him, playing them and replaying them inside my head, only to make sure I won't forget them. Only to make sure there won't be a day I'll miss him more than remember him. </p>
<p><br/>My legs shake, my throat burns and my lips bleed from the pressure my teeth put on them. That's all my body can give me. It helps, the physical pain overpowers the screaming devil inside me for just a second, but it's enough for me to take a long, deep breath that keeps me alive throughout the day. I have old bruises on my body—my mum's way to cope—and sometimes when it gets too hard I press them with my fingers, just to show my heart that what it's going through is nothing compared to what my skin can feel. Of course, it's all lies. Nothing compares to that kind of pain. It's sharper, it itches. The hole burns like a million knives stabbing me at once, its edges grow tighter and press against my lungs, making it impossible for me to breathe. Even hell, I bet, is slightly better. </p>
<p><br/>Then, there comes the sorrow. Because I've lost him. He isn't here anymore. He's gone, he's only a few blocks away, but it feels like he's on the other side of the world. So far that I can't reach him. I wonder how long this will last. Maybe it will get better one day, maybe someday months or years from now the pain will decrease, but right now it hurts more than anything else in the world does, more than it should, more than I should allow it to. How did I lose someone I never technically had? Was he ever even mine? Even for a fraction of a second, was he? It felt like he was; when touched me, his skin felt so right on mine that even the thought of it makes me shudder. His eyes sparkled when he talked about me—the memory is blurry and distant, but it's still there—and he laughed more when I was around; Fizzy said that. He was mine, I can't help but think. He wanted me, needed me—almost as much as I did—and I know it because he's told me so, and his eyes shined so brightly that there's not a chance he was lying. I was his, too. I still am. Harry has me, my heart is so full of him that it doesn't feel like it's mine anymore. I'm his; till every star falls off the sky, till every last soul vanishes and turns into complete dust, I belong to him. And he was mine. Harry was mine. Was. Harry was mine. Harry isn't mine anymore. Harry isn't even here anymore. As if he never existed. It feels blank and empty, but then again, can emptiness be so heavy? </p>
<p><br/>It's been only a week but it really feels like five endless, lifeless months. Because Harry was my life, and now my life has been taken away from me, and it feels like I'm slowly losing my mind. How was I before him? How was my life three months ago? Has it really been that long? Three months? Right now, it doesn't feel enough. I need more of him, more moments and memories to think about. My mind asks for more, and my heart—exhausted from the burning pain—begs for the torture to end. Because this is torture. I've lost him. He's gone. What a stupid and unbearable feeling. </p>
<p><br/>I want to call him. Talk to him. See him. Touch him. I need it. This feels like rehab, somehow. Harry was a drug, so now I need to get in touch with him. Not to figure things out, because it's clear; I love him, and he doesn't. He doesn't want me anymore, if he did he'd be here, and the hole in my chest wouldn't rip my torso apart with every breath I try to take. He wants a friend, and I can't give him that because I'm a selfish person who is addicted to pushing people away. But that's fine. All I want is to look at him once more. Hear his voice one more time, or his laughter; I miss his laughter. Maybe I could kiss him, too. One last time. It'd be enough, right? Would I be able to stop? Would he be able to stop? </p>
<p><br/>I stomp on the brake, thinking that I shouldn't drive while feeling like this. I leave the key in the ignition when I cut the roaring engine and fall back onto the driver's seat. I inhale, and the hole flutters open, the edges curl up inside my chest, sending waves of sharper pain through my entire body. </p>
<p><br/>"Fuck!" I scream and hit the steering wheel with my trembling hands. </p>
<p><br/>Small drops of rain start falling from the sky and thudding on the windshield. I watch them slide down its clear surface and then disappear as they land on the silver hood. I stare out the windshield for a long moment, concentrating on my running thoughts and trying to put them into place. When the voices in my head calm down a bit, I listen carefully to the sound of the sheeting rain falling loudly on the ground outside. My mind compares it to Harry's slow and low breathing, and the hole comes alive again. <br/>I curl my arms around my torso and hold myself together. The old bruises burn slightly under the tight pressure, but they're confronting. This feels better than numbness, in a way. </p>
<p><br/>Harry wouldn't want that. My Harry wouldn't want me to worry over silly things that weren't meant to be. He'd stroke my cheek and say that it will be okay, and, eventually, it would. It always did when he said so. But where is the logic in listening to his crappy advice now that he isn't even here? When he's the reason I'm feeling that way? </p>
<p><br/>I laugh sarcastically and humourlessly to myself because bringing logic into this mess doesn't sound sane. But then, I'm not even sane myself, to begin with. </p>
<p><br/>The soft chuckle puts the fire in my chest down, distracting the pain. I take the opportunity to inhale slowly, breathing in clean oxygen that soothes the burning edges of the hole. I lean back against the seat and grab the steering wheel again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Pretty Sure I'd Rather Die Instead But Thanks.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The irritating sound of someone knocking on the door breaks through my unconsciousness. I get up and walk sleepily to the door; everything is a blur, covered by fresh, morning light that makes my eyes sting.</p><p>"Give me a sec, dear God!" I groan when the knocking doesn't stop. I grab the cold knob and twist it, awakening the muscles of my hand.</p><p>"Happy Birthday!" the loud, excited voices reach my ears long before my eyes adjust to the sudden bright light and land on Zayn and Liam standing in front of the open door. Their faces are light with excitement and joy; there's a huge cake in Zayn's hands, covered in clear white whipped cream.</p><p><em>Happy Birthday Asshole</em>, is written in the center with chocolate letters, and I chuckle slightly before swiping my hand across my sleepy face.</p><p>Wow, it's really my birthday. My life has been so messed up lately that I've completely lost track of time. Tomorrow is Christmas. Wow.</p><p>"Thanks," I mumble with a crooked smile. "Thanks, you guys."</p><p>They walk past me and into the house, and when I turn around I see my mum sitting on the couch; her legs crossed, a fond smile shining on her easy face. Maybe I'm still dreaming after all.</p><p>"Happy Birthday, honey. Happy eighteen," she murmurs sweetly and I blink twice, just in case.</p><p>"Thanks, mum," I respond with a confused smile and head for the kitchen.</p><p>Zayn and Liam are making room for the cake inside the fridge, their tall backs on me as they take stuff off the drawers and push some other aside, so the cake can fit.</p><p>"Hey," I call quietly as I lean on the doorframe.</p><p>They turn around. "It's the birthday boy!" Liam shouts at the same time Zayn says "Happy eighteen, bro."</p><p>I chuckle and nod to them—because that's really all I do when I don't know what to say. I'm really eighteen now. It feels like nothing has changed, yet I can feel the confidence growing inside me. Or maybe that's because I've been up for five minutes and still haven't thought of <em>him—</em>I swallow, too scared to think of his name—which is sort of huge progress for me.</p><p>"What time is it?" I ask as we all move deeper into the house. I step into the bathroom and keep the door open for them; they follow after me and then lean casually against the wall.</p><p>"Nine thirty," Zayn responds as I stand in front of the faucet and look at myself in the mirror.</p><p>The purple, dark circles under my eyes are starting to be more obvious with every exhausting, lifeless day that passes by. I don't get enough sleep—I barely sleep at all—and it's too easy to tell. The nightmares that are forgotten the second I open my eyes keep me wide awake all night; my mind never goes quiet, always screaming and yelling, troubling me with useless thoughts that kill me slowly and torturously, not giving me a break. It's been a week, but it feels like so much longer; like forever. Like a never-ending, torturing, barren forever.</p><p>I splash warm water across my tired face and wait for my muscles to calm down under the warm drops. When they don't, I grab my blue towel and swipe it quickly across my clean face.</p><p>"Thanks for coming," I say to Liam and Zayn once more.</p><p>"No problem," Liam nods. "We wanted to have a surprise party for you anyway, but your mum was faster. She called us Thursday night and asked us to help her plan all this. The idea was pretty cool, right? You were sleepy, had no idea, didn't even remember about your birthday. It's just us and the rest of your family, but it's nice."</p><p>"My mum?" I question, surprised.</p><p>My mum planned a surprise party? For me?</p><p>"Yes. She really seems better, Louis," Liam comments with sympathy.</p><p>Truth is, she hasn't touched me since Tuesday—which is a lot for her—and she isn't that moody these days. She cooks and cleans up the place like she did back then; my closet is full of clothes lately, too.</p><p>"Yes, I know," I mumble thoughtfully, too scared to actually admit to myself that maybe she is getting better.</p><p>"Louis!" two cheerful, harmonized voices echo from down the hall, and when I get out of the bathroom I collide with two little, jumping bodies that sing the Happy Birthday song to me.</p><p>"Phoebe, Daisy!" I chuckle when they're done and hug them tightly. "Thank you, little princesses."</p><p>They both run to mum and then into the kitchen for breakfast before I realise they've slipped out of my skinny arms. I hear Lottie's door crack open quietly, and I don't get enough time to turn around because her arms are wrapped around my neck in a fraction of a second; she breathes loudly into my neck, as if she's about to start crying. I chuckle into her hair and stroke her back slowly.</p><p>"I love you, Lou. Sweet eighteen," she says, and my heart warms.</p><p>"Love you, Lots."</p><p>When Fizzy hugs me, the slight melancholy in her touch scratches the edges of the still sleeping hole a little. She knows, of course, she isn't stupid. She has no idea what exactly has happened, but she knows me and <em>him </em>are not...seeing each other anymore. Gemma has asked her, too, I'd bet. I want her to know, I just don't have the strength to tell her; maybe because I don't even know what has happened myself.</p><p>I hug her back, kissing her cheek and lifting her body from the floor just a little.</p><p>"I love you, bro. I wish you all the happiness in the world."</p><p>I smile my warmest smile until she disappears into the living room after Lottie.</p><p>They all leave after a while, leaving me alone with Zayn and Liam to "celebrate my day." Time goes by quickly with the boys, as always. We order Chinese food for lunch, because I truly love Chinese food. We eat in silence, and then play Scrabble before lounging on the couch to watch some TV.</p><p>"Maybe you're unlabelled," Liam says casually when the movie ends.</p><p>I frown thoughtfully at the sudden statement but take a moment to think about it. Truth is, none of the labels I've thought of feels comfortable enough; or seems to fit me. I don't want to say I'm gay because I do like girls; I've had sex with a girl before him, and it was pretty nice. Different than with Harry, but to be honest, everything was different with him.</p><p>"Yes, maybe," I nod in agreement after a while. "Or just queer. It feels better."</p><p>Both Liam and Zayn smile satisfied. We stay silent for a bit, a silence that I break quickly, too scared of my uncontrollable thoughts.</p><p>"Are you still visiting Zayn's parents for Christmas tomorrow?" I ask them, and the edges of the hole start burning slightly. Shit. Not here, not now.</p><p>"Yes. Are you still going at Ha...," Zayn begins but his voice fades slowly when he realises what he's about to ask.</p><p>The unfinished question hits me like a train, but I manage a smile to take the guilt off his face. "No. No, I'm not. Fizzy is, but I'll stay home with mom, Lottie, and the twins," I reply in a weak voice that tastes bitterly at the tip of my tongue.</p><p>They nod and look away, the tension in the room suddenly thickening.</p><p>My heart starts beating quickly, I can hear it panicking as the hole starts to slowly flutter open, burning my lungs.</p><p>I get up and head for the bathroom without excusing myself.</p><p>By the time I close the light door behind me, my eyes are itching terribly and my breathing is so loud that it tunes out every other sound around me. Not now, not now, not now.</p><p>I can sense the attack coming, and when I hear a light knock on the door I can't help but wonder how much time has passed since I left. It can't be a lot. One minute? Two? Three?</p><p>"Louis? Are you alright?"</p><p>I don't have time to respond because I'm quietly choking now, my hand wrapped around my neck to make sure there's nothing that's making it so hard for me to breathe. No. It's all in my head. It's a panic attack.</p><p>"Louis? Mate? Please say something."</p><p>My numb hands start to shake, my chest burns from the sharp pain of the untamed hole that is now growing and growing unstoppably, pushing abruptly against my roaring, weak, tired of trying lungs. I don't realise I'm crying until small, cold, salt drops find their way into my open mouth and make me choke harder, cutting off the keen, brutal breaths that fight to escape my flaming torso.</p><p>I'm burning alive.</p><p>I can hear the loud thuds against the door, I can hear Liam's begging voice behind the wooden surface of it, but it's all a blurry sound in the distance that sounds no louder than the calming pouring of rain onto the fresh ground. What's taking over my brain right now is the low, velvet murmur of Harry's voice, drumming harmonically with the sound of my heart. <em>It's you. It's you. It's you. It's you. It's you</em>, it whispers, and my knees lose balance at the gorgeous sound of it, forcing me to fall inaudibly onto the floor.</p><p>That's when the door breaks open and Liam bursts into the room, Zayn only a foot behind him. Their faces are flushed with agony and shock, overshadowing the beautiful colours of their eyes. They find me shaking on the bathroom floor, still choking, still crying, and I can see their mouths moving through my blurry vision, but I can't hear what they're saying.</p><p>Liam's arms wrap around me so tightly, as if they let go I'll vanish into the numb air. Zayn sits next to me and presses his palm on my sweaty forehead; I see the movement, but I don't feel his skin on mine.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Louis. I'm so sorry," Zayn's apology breaks through my brain's low buzzing of numbness just when Harry's voice in my head starts singing.</p><p>I close my eyes, giving in the exhausting heaviness that pushes my eyelids down, and focus on the velvet, calming sound of his voice that soothes the sharp edges of the hole.</p><p>
  <em>Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can't help, falling in love with you. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help, falling in love, with you? Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can't help, falling in love with you.</em>
</p><p>I shut down.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. I'm Seriously Fucking Miserable.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing with Harry is that he's one of those people who come into your life and fuck it up. He changes you, turns you into complete dust, and then helps you reborn. People would say that's a bad thing; that changing someone for whatever reason or purpose is toxic and wrong. See, the other thing with Harry is that he's the kindest person in the world. He never does anything to hurt anyone, he doesn't use or manipulate people as one would think. Harry saves you. He makes you see what you are, then what you're capable of becoming, and helps you fight for it. That's what he did to me; I was sleeping, drowning in a meaningless life when he found me. He took my hand, opened my eyes, and pushed me into the real world; helped me overcome my fears. Harry isn't one of those people who come and leave, leaving sweet memories and smiles behind. Harry stays. He gets into your everyday life, your routine, the way you breathe, the things you say. So when he leaves...When he leaves you're left with nothing but nothing. Nothing but bittersweet memories that make no sense. Memories that hurt and create aching holes inside your chest. Or maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm the only person he's ever affected this way. That doesn't make it any better, though, but it's something. It feels like perhaps, <em>I</em> was something.</p><p>So, thinking back to these past three months, I wouldn't change a thing. I wouldn't want to spend a second falling for anybody else. Harry is it for me. Harry is my person. In a world full of nonsense and horrible noises, he sang calming melodies in my ear.</p><p>And now he's gone. Now he's nowhere to be found, and I'm starting to slowly drown again. I'm losing myself, falling deeper every day, slipping. I need him more than I ever thought possible, even more than I admit to myself I do; there's always more, as if my soul has always something more to give to him. I don't mind that. I love him the same way the sun loves the moon; from a distance and unconditionally. I could light up his sky for the rest of my life, and that would be enough. Enough forever.</p><p>It's been almost two weeks now. Two weeks. What a tiny, meaningless amount of time that has no reason feeling so heavy to carry. Why does it feel like an eternity? How can twelve days feel like forever? When will it go away? Will I ever be able to breathe again? When will the hole heal, even the tiniest bit? Will it ever? Will there be a day, years from now, when I won't feel the pain ripping my torso apart?</p><p>On the other hand, I'm such an idiot. Such a fool, for holding on to something that's already gone. Me and Harry—whatever we were—weren't meant to be, or maybe we were, but we did it wrong. Maybe I did it wrong. As I always do, as I always have. Perhaps he left because he wanted to protect himself from me. Maybe he realised he's better off without me. That's good; that's what I want for him, too. If I only knew that that was it, then I would maybe try to move on. If only I knew a reason. If only he wasn't one of those people who left me with no explanation. I can almost feel the pain whispering. I can feel it joining the screaming thoughts that take over my head so often. But the pain isn't screaming like them, it's quiet; whispering, challenging. <em>Live. Breathe. Try. Fight. Bear. Control.</em> I can't. I can't unlove him, I think I couldn't even if I wanted to.</p><p>I can't help but wish Harry had forgotten something. I'd die to have him back for just a second—perhaps an even smaller amount of time. Maybe a shirt or a shock. I wish he'd left a part of him behind when he grabbed my heart and started running. Maybe I did deserve an epilogue, after all. I have suffered enough; he should know.</p><p>I've been sad for so long that it feels like I was born that way. I cry a little easier, run a little faster, fight a little weaker. The scars have vanished eventually, but they're deeply marked into my soul; an aching soul that gave up so long ago. I don't ask for happiness—I don't want it—only a little bit less pain. Less screaming, burning, thinking. I could live with it. I could lift my head and start walking again; if the pain wasn't so heavy and much, I could maybe save myself. All I want is for the flaming hole to soothe—not even go away. That would do. I could live with not feeling anything; I prefer numbness over experiencing all the pain of the world at once.</p><p>**</p><p>"Hey," Lottie says when I pass by her in the living room.</p><p>I stop in front of the door and turn around to face her. She's sitting on the couch, watching TV.</p><p>"I heard you screaming last night. Nightmares again?"</p><p>My eyes fall onto the clean floor. "Err, yes. It's just... School's stressing me out."</p><p>She purses her lips in agreement and then licks them thoughtfully. "You know, if there's something you want to talk about..."</p><p>"It's fine, Lots. It's just school." I smile so warmly that there's not a chance she can tell I'm lying.</p><p>"Okay," she sighs, kind of relieved. "Take care."</p><p>I nod to her and walk out of the house. The cold rain pours around me, splattering with loud, heavy thuds onto the dark grey pavement. I walk forward and stand in the middle of the street. When my legs fall on the road, the rain is so thick that I almost don't feel it. I sit down, close my eyes and breathe in fresh, moist oxygen. It feels peaceful; it silences the screaming voices inside my head. I stay there, listening to the heavy drops splash on my warm body and pavement, until a high-pitched voice interrupts my quiet thoughts.</p><p>"What are you doing?"</p><p>My eyes flutter open and land on a little girl a few feet away. She's wearing gloves and rain boots; there's a tall, pink umbrella above her head that's covered in long, blonde hair. She's staring at me with big, round eyes that seem so sophisticated that it feels illegal to look at them.</p><p>"Nothing," I reply coldly and lift my head up. Cold drops splash on my forehead.</p><p>"You'll get cold," the little girl continues, but her voice sounds closer now; when I open my eyes again, she's standing right next to me.</p><p>"So will you," I say stubbornly and push my eyelids down.</p><p>I concentrate on the thudding sound of the sheeting rain and count to thirty. When she doesn't respond, I assume she's gone, and breathe loudly in relief.</p><p>The rain suddenly stops hitting my body.</p><p>"No. I am wearing a coat and gloves and a therm shirt. You're only wearing sweatpants and a flannel shirt. It's December, for crying out loud. My mum says that the people who don't dress warmly in winter are weird and need mental help."</p><p>"Well, my mum doesn't care about me," I reply and scoot away from the unnecessary protection of her umbrella.</p><p>"I'm sorry for that. Do you want my coat?"</p><p>I chuckle softly. "No. Thanks, girlie."</p><p>"Don't call me that. I'm eight years old."</p><p>"What's your name, then?" I ask her with a small smile, raising my eyebrow.</p><p>"Melissa. Yours?"</p><p>"Louis."</p><p>"Nice to meet you, Louis," she mutters kindly. She's so tiny.</p><p>"Nice to meet you, Melissa."</p><p>"My mum says we should always be kind to people."</p><p>"You know what?" I ask her and move to stand under her umbrella again. "I think your mum is right."</p><p>She smiles satisfied and looks forward. "It's nice here."</p><p>"Yes, I know."</p><p>"My mum says that people do that when they're in pain."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"When people stand in the rain," she explains with a sophisticated tone that doesn't fit her age. "She says they do it to drown out their thoughts."</p><p>I smile crookedly. "Yes. Maybe."</p><p>"Are you in pain?"</p><p>I stare down at her white face, her blue, sparkling eyes scanning mine. "Yes, I am. I lost someone I really love."</p><p>She sighs heavily, as if she understands me completely, and looks forward into the foggy rain. "Are you sure you lost them?"</p><p>I pause at that, thinking. "Yes. They aren't here—he isn't here—so yeah, I'm sure."</p><p>"Do you love him a lot?"</p><p>I sigh heavily this time, trying to keep the hole quiet and sleepy. I fail; its edges push itchily against my chest as it starts to wake. "I do," I whisper, my weak voice dying in a whimper. "I wasn't ready for him to leave."</p><p>"Then why did he?" the tiny, innocent voice next to me asks.</p><p>"I don't know," I shrug with glossy eyes.</p><p>"Maybe he thinks you left."</p><p>"<em>What?</em>"</p><p>Her eyes brighten. "Did you fight for him? Talk to him?" she explains quietly, her soft voice breaking through the loud thudding of the wild rain.</p><p>What?</p><p>"No," I whisper thoughtfully.</p><p>"<em>It's a thousand pities never to say what one feels</em>."</p><p>"Your mum says that?"</p><p>Her loud laughter echoes into the rain. "No. That's Virginia Woolf."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>"My mum says that the bravest thing one can do is fight for what they love, because what we love always tries to slip away. I'm not saying you aren't brave, but you could try some more. What finds its way into our hearts tends to break it. But I think in this case, you're the one breaking your own heart."</p><p>"But what if it isn't worth it?" I ask her; I swallow back some unwelcome tears that threaten to fall out of my eyes.</p><p>"If it wasn't worth it, you wouldn't be standing in the freezing rain talking about it with an eight-year-old girl," she states and then gets up.</p><p>Rain starts streaming down my cold body again. It thuds quietly on my bare shoulders, and it reminds me of Harry, of course. Each drop has his voice in it, and when it splashes on the hard pavement, the whispers release themselves and find my ears; <em>It's you, it's you, it's you, it's you</em>. I stay silent.</p><p>"I have a piano lesson, I'm sorry. I hope this ends up the way you want it to. You seem like a good boy. Whoever that person is, he probably loves you back. This is a misunderstanding. Mark my words," she murmurs in a sweet voice and stays completely still. </p><p>"But I can't fight for him," I whisper when I realise she's waiting for me to say something.</p><p>"Have you even tried, Louis?"</p><p>I inhale sharply and stare blankly into space. I can't believe I'm doing this with an eight-year-old child.</p><p>"You love him too much to put the blame on him, so you blame yourself," she says, and the sound of the pouring rain makes her voice sound distant. "But then again, why do you blame instead of fight?"</p><p>She disappears into the soft blankets of streaming rain.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. When Skies Are Grey.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If I didn't know we're at a club, I'd think that's Niall's place. Strings of light swim around the room and land on my face once and then; the room is covered in darkness and dim colourful lights.</p><p>"This is so fun! Yoo-hoo! New Year's Eve!" Liam shouts behind me and I chuckle at his excited and motivational tone.</p><p>"Niall is here?" I question confused when I spot his dancing body in the crowd.</p><p>"Oh! Niall!" Zayn exclaims happily and runs to him with dancing steps.</p><p>"This is a famous place, L. I guess we'll see a lot of familiar people here. Donny isn't as big as you think it is," Liam informs with a wink and I nod, not allowing myself to think about it any farther.</p><p>We dance for a while, time passes by quickly. It feels relaxing and carefree, and I find myself having an unexpectedly good time. I don't drink a lot, because I don't want to lose control and get wasted. Niall joins us after a bit, dancing along with the loud music in his own freestyle, unsteady rhythm. A girl comes to him at some point, whispers something in his ear and then disappears into the suffocating crowd. Niall's face lights up with happiness as he stays completely still, his eyes fixed on the entrance behind my back.</p><p>"Harry's here!"</p><p>My mind goes silent. What? Harry? Here? Harry? Harry?</p><p>Zayn and Liam turn around to look in his direction, but I stay totally still in place, my heart beats so loudly in my ears that I can feel it as it vibrates in my temples. My ears are buzzing from the blurry, almost distant music.</p><p>Don't. Look. Don't. Turn. Around. Resist. You. Can. Don't. Don't. Turn. Around.</p><p>The hole bursts alive, itching as it sends sharp vibrations of pain up my throat. I can feel my hands shaking slowly. I can feel the heat climbing up my body. I can feel my neck paralyzing; I can feel Harry's presence in the room.</p><p>So I do turn around. I force my feet to move and, for once, they obey me, spinning me around and then turning into heavy stones under me.</p><p>Harry is there.</p><p>His lips are moving in perfect movements as he shouts inaudible words at Niall who's standing next to him. There's a purple string of light above his head that lands on his green eyes and makes them glow. He looks stunning. Niall says something to him that makes him laugh, and his head falls back. The loud laughter reaches my buzzing ears.</p><p>And suddenly, there isn't a hole.</p><p><em>I </em>am the hole. I'm on fire, exploding, flaming; all the sanity inside me flies out, spilling into the crowdy room that suffocates me. Everything is blurry. There's just Harry. Harry. My Harry. After two entire weeks, he's there.</p><p>The pain stabs me, pinching my legs with needles that burn and itch and freeze my boiling blood inside my veins. It's eating me alive, <em>I </em>am eating my own self alive. But I don't—can't—feel a single thing. My knees give up; they buckle underneath me, and four hands are wrapped around me in an instant, pulling me back up. No. Let me drown. Let me die. They start moving me quickly through the unbothered, dizzying crowd.</p><p>"No. Harry. Get me back to Harry. Why are you taking me away from him? I want Harry," I whisper almost unconsciously with my dumb mouth but the sound is drowned out by the extremely loud noises that surround us.</p><p>They drag me into a big bathroom where the lights are yellow and dim and the music distant. When they close the door, the bopping sounds from outside almost disappear. They lay me on the floor, my back against the hard cold wall.</p><p>"Louis," Liam kneels in front of me. "You're having a panic attack again. Stop it. Stop crying. Calm down."</p><p>"Look at his hands, Liam," Zayn says without taking his eyes off me. "The shaking won't stop, it's getting worse."</p><p>I'm shaking? Crying? Isn't it all in my head? In my chest? Am I actually burning?</p><p>"Shit, I didn't know he'd be here," Liam mutters to himself, running a frustrated hand through his gelled hair.</p><p>There's a knock on the door and Zayn runs across the spinning room to open it. If I judge by the way his posture stiffens and the anxiety with which he slips out of the door, I bet it's Harry. Liam knows it, too, because he sighs nervously and gets up; he starts pacing across the room in big, anxious steps.</p><p>I can hear Zayn's uptight and loud voice, and then short, calm murmurs that make the hole ache like the devil. The longing hardens and the fire grows hotter.</p><p>"Let him in," I groan through quiet gasps. "Please, Liam. Let him in."</p><p>By the way he eyes me, I can tell he doesn't agree with this. I know Liam blames Harry for the way I've been these past weeks, but Liam doesn't know Harry. He doesn't know that Harry is the kindest person in the world. That Harry saved me. Harry. Harry is here.</p><p>Liam walks to the door and opens it slightly; he slides his head out and whispers something that I'm breathing too loudly to hear. When the door closes again, I'm all alone in the quiet room. I sit up, straightening my aching back against the wall behind me. The burning increases as I move, so I wrap my arms around my trembling legs so tightly that the shaking almost stops. I try to control my breathing and synchronise it to the echoing thud of the beat outside. Dum. Dum. Dum. Dum. It doesn't work, but it keeps my mind occupied.</p><p>The second Harry steps into the room, the pain increases again. It feels sweeter and bearable now, but I can feel the wild edges of the huge hole scratching against my skin abruptly. I inhale slowly, taking in as much oxygen as the terrible stubbing in my lungs allows me.</p><p>Harry stays silent, standing still beside the closed door. I can almost hear his heart beating against his chest; not because it's loud, but because it's been so long since I was able to listen to it, that it's nearly impossible to ignore its low thudding now. He's so beautiful. His curls are bright brown—freshly washed—and his skin is so smooth and creamy. His eyes are fixed on the floor, so I can't see them.</p><p>"Is it still burning?" his voice is quiet and weak; I shudder.</p><p>I don't have to ask to know he's talking about the flaming pain inside my chest. I have no idea how he knows about it, though. "It's better now," I mumble, and it feels like I'm hearing my own voice for the first time.</p><p>I see him nod out of the corner of my eyes, and suddenly, the fact that he's here, in the same room as me, after two whole weeks, hits me. He's here. In this room. Only a few feet away from my exhausted, longing, craving body.</p><p>If I knew he wanted me to, I would get up, cross the room in three steps and fall into his arms. But I know he doesn't. I know he doesn't want to be here because the burning keeps reminding me he left. He doesn't need me as I do, and I know he's here only because Zayn and Liam asked him to. Because I'm pathetic and needy, that's why.</p><p>Suddenly, I want him to leave. There's no need for him to be here if he'd rather not, I would never ask that of him. He can leave, disappear all over again, and leave me burning all alone in my own dust. As always, I wouldn't mind. He could slap me in the face and tell me he despises me, and it would be okay; as long as I knew <em>he </em>was happy, it would always hurt less. It would be hard and horrible; I flinch and shudder at the thought of having to deal with the flaming hole for the rest of my life, but it would be better than knowing he's being forced to comfort me.</p><p>The thought creates a new, itching feeling in the bottom of my stomach, and I swallow as I feel the sobs building up my sore throat. The shaking starts again—you'd say I should be used to it by now—breaking the weak grip on my legs that start trembling along with my uncontrollable hands. I can sense the panic and terror overpowering me, tuning out every sound but the loud thudding of my screaming, aching heart.</p><p>"Louis? Louis?" Harry's velvet voice breaks through the buzzing inside my head.</p><p>"No, don't," I gasp and use my entire strength to raise a shaky hand, stopping him from coming closer.</p><p>He doesn't listen to me; he steps closer, almost three feet away from my body that's spasming violently on the cold floor. What is he doing? Why isn't he leaving? Why is he doing that? Does he hate me that much? He's free to go. He can go. Again.</p><p>"Go, Harry," I beg through sobs, flinching abruptly as his name leaves my mouth. I don't want him here. I don't want him seeing me like that. "You can go."</p><p>"I don't want to go," his soft, begging voice matches his green and pleading eyes.</p><p>I push sharp and cold air out of my trembling hands rapidly, trying not to think about the choking and the gasping too much. I try to sit back with my spine straight against the wall again so I can control the burning easier, but it doesn't work. I can't control my body, it's driving me crazy. The blazing heat inside me increases manically, like there's something pulling it out of my skin, dragging it; like it needs to get out...</p><p>Harry touches my shoulder.</p><p>"Ah!" I gasp quietly at the sudden contact, just when the heat climbs up my throat and evaporates into the thin air.</p><p>"Shh," Harry breathes calmly and scoots closer, his hand never leaving my skin. He sits next to me and carefully pulls me into his arms.</p><p>When I lay my head on his chest, everything goes quiet. The buzzing music from outside has stopped, the panting, the gasping, the screaming in my head. There's nothing. Nothing but Harry's heart drumming along with mine. I breathe in, happy that I can finally do it without the sharp pain cutting the attempt off, and I wince when I realise what I've done; his scent fills my nostrils, overpowering the useless oxygen and resting familiarly in the bottom of my lungs. I tug on his shirt, and he pushes me closer. My breathing has slowed down. The tears are cold where they're frozen on my cheeks. I stare unbelievably into space as I try to find the burning. I find nothing, absolutely nothing. I feel like...me. Not flaming, no <em>hole</em>. No sharp edges. No nothing.</p><p>I start crying again then. Soft tears escape my eyes and start running down my wet, sore cheeks. They're happy tears. I'm happy. The hole is gone. Harry's here. <em>Harry's here</em>. I grasp tighter on his shirt and push my head against his breathing chest.</p><p>"<em>You are my sunshine</em>," he sings quietly in response, "<em>my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey, you'll never know dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away</em>..."</p><p>When my eyelids give up and force my brain to shut down, sleeping feels like breathing after spending a long, exhausting time underwater.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Wow.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There's something new but familiar in the way my eyelids flutter open when they do.</p><p>I scan the room with half-lidded eyes, and I spot Liam sitting against the wall across me; his eyes are looking down but his exhausted gaze seems to be lost somewhere far away from here. He lifts his head to look at me—even though I'm pretty sure I made no sound—and a warm, tired smile flashes across his tired face when he sees I'm awake.</p><p>"Happy New Year, L," he murmurs sweetly.</p><p>I frown at his sudden words, taking a second to process them. "Happy New Year," I reply with a sleepy, harsh voice after a bit. "How long was I asleep?"</p><p>His smile tightens softly. "Two hours. It's one-thirty."</p><p>I nod thoughtfully and sit up more comfortably against the cold, hard wall that's made my back feel numb. That's when it hits me.</p><p>"Where's Harry?" I snap anxiously.</p><p>Liam's warm smile turns into a nervous, hard line. "He's...he's waiting for you upstairs."</p><p>"Upstairs?"</p><p>"Yeah... There are a couple of rooms upstairs for...practical reasons, I guess. Like a motel. Harry said that he'd like to talk to you <em>if you want</em>. There's no need for you to go, of course." I can clearly see that Liam would love it if I decided that I didn't want to see Harry ever again.</p><p>Unfortunately for him, that's definitely not happening.</p><p>"Okay," I say and get up.</p><p>"Wait," Liam is next to me in an instant. "We can leave, too. If you don't want to see him or talk to him then..."</p><p>"Liam," I sigh nervously, "I'm really sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or stresses you out, mate, but I <em>am </em>seeing Harry, either you like it or not."</p><p>I'm walking towards the door before he can say anything else. When I step out of the quiet bathroom, I realise that the party is wilder and louder now. There's confetti and balloons all over the place, I can sense the new year in the thick air. I tune out the music and search for a barman in the feral crowd of dancing bodies.</p><p>"Hey!" I call as loudly as I can at a short guy with a brown apron around his waist. "How do I go upstairs?"</p><p>He smiles politely and gestures to a narrow staircase hidden in a corner of the room. "The guy you're looking for is waiting for you in room five," he whispers in my ear and then disappears into the crowd.</p><p><em>What?!</em> Now the club staff knows, too?</p><p>I sigh heavily—even though I don't even hear the quiet sound—and head for the stairs.</p><p><em>5</em>, the door from across the room says when I reach the top, and a wave of anxiety washes over me. <em>Oof</em>.</p><p>My feet move and walk me to stand in front of the wooden door. Do I knock? Do I knock and wait or do I knock and get in? Do I just open the door and walk in without warning? Is he waiting for me? Of course he is, he even told the barman about me. The thought makes my stomach flutter softly, and I wince with surprise because it's been so long since I felt anything but the burning inside me. The burning that has vanished now, like it never actually existed. I inhale deeply and twist the doorknob under my almost shaking palm.</p><p><em>Shaking from nervousness, not panic and pain</em>, I remind myself and the thought brings a soft smile to my face.</p><p>The room is bigger and way more different than I thought; the tall walls are beige and clean, decorated with colourful and beautiful paintings that add to its elegance and wealthy style. It looks like one of those expensive hotel rooms—perhaps even a suite. I take a step forward and close the light door behind me. There's a huge, king-sized bed covering one-quarter of the room.</p><p>This sure as hell doesn't fit the wild party taking place in the club downstairs.</p><p>"Hey," Harry's calm voice finds me before my eyes are done surveying the interesting room.</p><p>I turn around in the direction the soothing sound came from. Harry is leaning against one of the beige walls on my right, next to a wall library; there's an old book in his hands and a gentle but cautious look on his face.</p><p>"Hi," I mutter and take a tiny step toward him. Too scared to get any closer, I start bouncing on my feet awkwardly.</p><p>"Thanks for coming," he says before pursuing his full lips that I don't even consider looking at.</p><p>Having absolutely no idea what to say—because of course I'd come, I'm in love with him, for crying out loud—I walk over to the bed and sit inaudibly on the beige duvet. I fix my nervous, excited gaze on my lap.</p><p>"Do you... Are you feeling any better?" he continues anxiously. He closes the book with a soft thud and places it back in between the rest of the dusty, aged books. When he takes a couple of steps closer to me, my heart starts beating so fast that I feel it where my palms are pressed together in my lap.</p><p>"Yeah," I nod reassuringly; not that he truly cares, just for the record. "Thanks for...calming me down."</p><p>"You look exhausted," he comments, and when I tilt my head to look at his face there's pure worry covering his forest green eyes.</p><p>"I am," I sigh honestly. "I haven't slept properly in...weeks."</p><p>He frowns thoughtfully to himself, his troubled eyes fixed on the brown carpet covering the floor. I want to walk there and kiss the unsettled look off his divine face. He doesn't deserve to be unhappy, and I don't want him to be, for whatever reason. That's the entire point of staying away from him, isn't it? To protect him. To make sure he's happy.</p><p>"I'm sorry," the quiet words leave his mouth and hit me in the gut.</p><p>I snap my head. "What?"</p><p>"For...leaving. Disappearing."</p><p>"It's fine."</p><p>"Is it?"</p><p>I stay silent, my gaze on the brown floor. I can't lie to him.</p><p>"It's not," he replies confidently and steps closer.</p><p>"Harry...," I breathe with a panicked voice, having no idea what to say to that.</p><p>"I can't stay away from you," he whispers and falls onto his knees in front of me. His hands cup my knees, and I shiver.</p><p>What was that for? Is it a realisation? A conclusion? He can't stay away from me? Wasn't he the one who ran away in the first place? What is he doing now?</p><p>"Can you?" he asks with a shaky breath. "Can you stay away from <em>me</em>?"</p><p>I almost burst out laughing, but I hold it in and sigh heavily instead, feeling the emotions burning my feet. I push his cold hands off my legs and get up; I take a few steps away from him and then spin around to face him again. Okay. We're doing this.</p><p>"Why? Why do you care? Why didn't you call? Why did you disappear, Harry? As if you never even existed? Why can't you stay away from me when you're the one who chose to leave in the first place? Why are you so...so...confusing? And so complicated and hurtful? How can you ask <em>me </em>if I can stay away from <em>you </em>when you know I've been like shit? I know you know, maybe even Fizzy told you about how fucked up these past weeks have been for me. And you actually didn't even fucking care! So why do you give a damn now? Why do you care about me all of a sudden?" A violent and sudden sob cuts me off, taking my breath away. No. Don't cry. Don't cry. I wipe the cold tears off my face and ignore the pinching in my lungs. I sit down onto the bed again, my shoulder brushing the headboard slightly.</p><p>Harry isn't looking at me. His eyes are fixed on the thick carpet again, his eyelashes fluttering emotionally. He walks closer and sits on the edge of the low footboard; his gaze never leaving his feet.</p><p>I go on. "You chose to leave—just like everybody else in my life has done—and give me—<em>just like them—</em>no goddamn explanation! You were supposed to be different, Harry. So, why? Why did you disappear? Why didn't you at least tell me what I did wrong?" The words that are leaving my mouth are so pathetic that I actually don't mind the sobs that cut my quiet voice off again. I swallow, trying to remember all the words I so carelessly released. <em>Why am I even saying all this stuff to him? </em>He doesn't care.</p><p>"If you could only tell me why...," I whisper in a vanishing voice.</p><p>When his eyes flicker to me again, he looks confused. "You...you have been like shit?" he repeats my words, as if they're unbelievable.</p><p>I chuckle humourlessly, the loud breath freezing the tears on my mouth and chin. "What did you think? That I'd be fine? After all this... After everything—three entire months of you—and you thought I'd be alright? After everything you've done for me?"</p><p>"What have I done?" he asks softly.</p><p>"A lot," I snap quickly.</p><p>"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know...," his voice fades, and his troubled frown deepens.</p><p>Of course, he didn't know. Of course, he thought he meant nothing to me just like I did to him. It was easy for him because <em>he </em>isn't in love with me. He could so easily leave me all over again, and it'd be a piece of cake for him.</p><p>"But," he mumbles confusedly, "my mum...my mum told you about me, me and the...depression thing."</p><p>"Yes. And?" I ask.</p><p>I have been so messed up since that day that I didn't even remember about this. I didn't forget—how could I?—the thought was always there, in the back of my head, but it added extra pain to my already unbearable torture that I didn't want to think about it. Okay with me struggling, but Harry struggling? No. No, that would be horrible and make everything so much worse.</p><p>Harry's scowl deepens, troubling thoughts covering his entire face. I scoot closer to him, the duvet shuffling underneath me as I move.</p><p>"What does this have to do with anything?" I ask him confused.</p><p>He looks at me with a new, surprised look on his face; as if I'm a mass of more confusing thoughts he can occupy his brain with.</p><p>"Harry?" I prompt, waving a hand in front of his face.</p><p>"But...didn't it...didn't you...wasn't it...?" he mutters, lost.</p><p>This is actually starting to get a little bit annoying.</p><p>"Harry, what the hell are you talking about?"</p><p>He glares at me with a clearer gaze this time, like he's out of the troubling bubble of thoughts. Pain flashes across his soft face. "Louis... Louis I thought <em>you </em>didn't want me to call."</p><p>I blink once. "You <em>what</em>?!"</p><p>He scowls again, staring at the damn floor with so much concentration, as if all the answers he's looking for are written on it. "I thought you didn't want me—need me—anymore," he explains painfully.</p><p>"<em>Why</em>?" I exclaim in shock; this is a <em>fucking</em> joke. "Why would you ever think that?"</p><p>"Because my mum told you about the depression."</p><p>The depression again.</p><p>"<em>And?</em><em>!</em>"</p><p>"And I... I thought you didn't want me now that you knew I have struggled, too."</p><p><em>What?!</em> Harry thought he was <em>useless </em>to me?</p><p>"You...," I flinch as the thoughts start to click together in my brain, "You thought I <em>used</em> you? Because you helped me get through shit? You thought I would find you useless and...and <em>pointless </em>now? That's why you didn't call me?"</p><p>"Well," he murmurs, shrugging, "not that, exactly. I thought that now that you knew I was depressed, you thought you couldn't count on me anymore. You didn't?"</p><p>"Of course I fucking didn't, Harry! What the hell!" I shout in shock, standing up. "It didn't even cross my fucking mind! Are you insane? You seriously thought...you thought..." I press my hands against my head, holding my brain in place, trying not to go nuts.</p><p>"You didn't?" Harry questions innocently, blinking rapidly, as if he's just waking up from a deep sleep. "You...you didn't?"</p><p>"No!" I shout again and walk to stand in front of him. I feel like exploding. Tears start climbing up my sore throat all over again, pushing the lump up, choking me. "I... I thought..."</p><p>How do I tell him this? How do I say I was scared he heard me confessing my love to him?</p><p>"I thought you didn't want me anymore," I whisper with a voice crack, wiping two tears away. It already feels like the hole never existed, but I hate talking about it. I hate the shuddering thought of its wild edges against my exhausted, flaming lungs...</p><p>But it doesn't matter. He should know. He owes to know. He has left me before, so what's the big news? I know the pain, maybe I'll deal with it better this time. Maybe I'll even be able to move on. He has to know. I have to tell him.</p><p>"Harry...," I whimper through a river of tears and look at his jaw-dropping face. "I don't know what you feel about me–" I start to say, but he interrupts me.</p><p>"Louis..."</p><p>"No, Harry. No, let me finish, please," I beg, and he stays silent, his eyes fixed on the beige duvet between his parted thighs. I kneel in front of him. "I don't know what you feel about me, and if you don't feel anything, anything at all, you can tell me. I want you to tell me. But I can't hide it from you anymore, Harry. It's exhausting, and I hate pretending, I really do." I pause, swallowing the heavy tears in my throat.</p><p>I can hear his loud breathing leaving nervously his nostrils, but it's nothing compared to the unsteady rhythm of my hardly beating heart. A tear falls on my cheek but I don't mind it; this is just Harry, I don't have to hide around him, and I don't have to pretend anymore, either. I am telling him. I'm doing it.</p><p>"In my entire life," I begin, swallowing tears that fall unstoppably on my mouth as I fight to keep my breath even. "In my entire life, I never had a home. I was always wandering around, aimlessly, with no purpose, no reason. I had a house, I still do have a house, but never a home, a safe place. And I never—" a hard sob cuts my breath, stopping me mid-sentence. I swallow it back, wiping the tears off my face with the back of my palm. "I never thought that I could find one. So easily, when I wasn't even looking for it. But I did. I really did." I lift my head and stare at him through blurry, glossy eyes. "It's you, Harry. I have found you."</p><p>The sharp pain in my chest burns my lungs, and I take a moment to inhale carefully before I continue again. "And you disappeared; you left. Left me. And I'm slowly starting to stand on my own feet, but I can't do it without you yet, I need your help," my voice is weak and watery, interrupted by streaming, endless tears. I dare look into his eyes, but the glare doesn't last long enough for me to find a feeling there; I'm not that strong. "You can leave, if you want. You can leave me. I <em>will </em>be okay, eventually. If that's what makes you truly happy, leave. As long as I know you're fine, I will be okay. It will hurt less. I know it will."</p><p>This time, when I tilt my gaze and fix my eyes on his, it lasts longer. I notice a heavy tear falling from his eyelids; the drop lands on his cheek, and he doesn't even flinch when I reach out and wipe it with my finger.</p><p>"Louis," he murmurs and hops off the bed, kneeling in front of me on the floor. "How can you be so naïve? Can't you see? Don't you see?"</p><p>"See what?" I ask him and purse my lips to hold more tears back.</p><p>He chuckles softly, and takes my hand in his. My fingers curl around his warm skin and tug. Hold on to it. Hold on to him.</p><p>"I can't put it into words, I can't explain it to you because I can't even explain it to myself but Louis... Louis I belong to you," he says, bringing our tied hands to his breathing chest. My heart skips a beat. "I'm yours. You have me, and you've had me since day one, from the very first second that I opened my eyes, the first time I laughed, cried, hurt, enjoyed. It was all you, Louis. All for you. I care about you, I...you make me feel...you drive me mad. You make me want to explode and vanish and dance and scream. You make me feel like a firework. I'm sparkling, shining. Everything is so much better with you, since you. I need you—want you—and that feels like all I need to keep living. The beginning and end of everything. You feel like home. The world could be falling apart right next to me and I wouldn't care to acknowledge the catastrophe because as long as you're breathing and as long as your heart is beating, everything else feels dull and meaningless. Right now, it feels like there's nothing else in the world more important than you. I... I want to lay with you on a roof in the middle of August and stare at the stars while holding your hand."</p><p>If I hadn't spent a life in misery and injustice, if I was able to talk about happiness and joy, I could probably describe the cheerful feeling that makes my cheeks flush better. But I'm not, and all I can say is that I am the happiest man in the universe.</p><p>I swallow again, bringing my free hand to my head and wiping the tears off my cheek with my wrist. I don't know what to say. In this moment, I don't even know how to breathe right.</p><p>"I love you."</p><p>I tilt my head to look at him so fast that I'm in a daze when my eyes find his. His green, bewitching eyes.</p><p>"What did you say?" I ask him, scared I'm hearing voices.</p><p>He smiles. "I love you, Louis Tomlinson. I love you."</p><p>I start laughing quietly, my head falls back and my entire body shakes. "That's not really smart, you know," I tease him, lifting my hand and wrapping it around his neck. "I thought we were friends."</p><p>He smiles slyly, his hand securing my waist. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. I can say it until my throat bleeds, I can say it again and again and again. I love you. I. Love. You. My name is Harry Edward Styles, and I am in love with you, Louis..."</p><p>"William."</p><p>"...Louis William Tomlinson.I have loved none, but you. I want you to know that you are everything I have ever dreamed and wished for."</p><p>Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I'm so happy that I want to stand up and start jumping until I'm out of breath.</p><p>"So now what?" I ask him, tracing the nape of his neck with my fingertips.</p><p>"Now you're stuck with me," he replies and wraps his other arm around me. He lifts me up and sits down onto the bed, my warm body in his lap.</p><p>"Ah," I fake a dramatic sigh. "Are you going to force me to spend the rest of my miserable life with you? God, oh God, hell would be better than this awful torture."</p><p>He laughs and presses my body on his. "What do you want?" he asks with an honest voice.</p><p>"I want-" I begin but let my voice fade. I pause then, looking thoughtfully at the beige wall behind his head. His heart skips a beat under my palm. "You. Always you," I mumble confidently.</p><p>He purses his lips in an attempt to hide his wide smile. "Okay," he whispers. "Anything that you don't already have?"</p><p>"Hmm," I mutter softly, the corners of my mouth curling up. "No. Nope, you're all I want."</p><p>I lean down and bury my head into his neck, savouring the way my lungs take in his scent as if it's oxygen.</p><p>"Happy birthday, babe," he murmurs and kisses my shoulder softly.</p><p>I pull back. "It was boring without you," I confess.</p><p>His smile lights up his face. "Sweet eighteen, big guy."</p><p>I chuckle lightly and lean down to lay my head on his shoulder again. I breathe in, taking in as much of him as I can.</p><p>"Clifford misses you," he says then, and it takes me a second to realise who he's talking about.</p><p>"Clifford!" I exclaim excited and pull back to look at his face. "How is he?"</p><p>"Depressed. Just like I was. You know, you really get into people's lives. You're dangerous."</p><p>"Oh, shut up," I chuckle and swat his arm.</p><p>His smile falls slowly, and his eyes fall on my mouth. "Can I kiss you?" he asks in a low voice.</p><p>"Do you want to kiss me?" I reply, leaning in.</p><p>"Mhm," he nods dizzily, and I smile.</p><p>"Then kiss me, please."</p><p>His mouth collides softly with mine, and suddenly these two, traumatic weeks feel like a piece of cake, an easy game that I'd play over and over and over again if I got to have this as a reward.</p><p>I pull back, sliding my tongue off his hot mouth. I clear my burning throat and stare into his green eyes.</p><p>"Harry, I want to lay with you on a roof in the middle of August and stare at the stars while holding your hand," I say in a whisper, and he shivers so hard that his body trembles under mine.</p><p>He leans in and kisses me again, his smile so big that I don't know how to move my lips. He pulls back, and I almost groan impatiently.</p><p>"Grow old with me," he whispers.</p><p>"Live with me," I reply faithfully and caress his cheek with my fingers.</p><p>The idea that this might not work enters my mind, but then Harry's warm lips are on mine again, and the thought vanishes as fast as it appeared.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">three months later.</span>
</p><p>"Harry!" I squeal and trip over my feet as I start running out of my room. "Harry! I got it! I got in!"</p><p>When I finally reach the end of the hall and slide into the living room, Harry and my mum are both standing up, completely still, eyes wide with anticipation.</p><p>"What?" my mum gasps, the corners of her circled mouth curled into a small, barely noticeable smile.</p><p>"The University!" I scream, dangling the sheet of paper in front of her face. "They accepted me! I'm in!"</p><p>I turn my head to look at Harry; he's stiff, looking at me with an unsteady glare that flickers between my burning face and the formal paper in my hand. There's a  glimpse of heavy excitement behind his green, sparkling eyes.</p><p>"Harry!" I shout with a giggle. "Wake up! We... I.... I got in!"</p><p>He lets a shaky, emotional breath out and lets it turn into an excited, happy chuckle. His fingers run through his head as he shakes it in disbelief and surprise, looking at me as if I'm all his eyes can see clearly.</p><p>I take a huge step and jump into his familiar arms that wrap around me automatically. He takes a few steps back, losing balance, but it's easy for him to compose himself because of the couch behind us. I breathe loudly into his neck and squeal excitedly again.</p><p>I'm in. I got it. Oh my God. I'm going to study drawing. I'm going to a University. I really am.</p><p>"I knew you would. I knew it, babe. Congratulations. I'm so happy for you," he mumbles, his breath caressing the shivering nape of my neck.</p><p>I pull back just a little and place a hard, passionate kiss on his lips. It doesn't last more than two seconds, and when I hop off his arms, he presses my back against his chest and leans in to kiss my shoulder. I shiver, and let my head fall back to rest on his warm torso.</p><p>I fix my watery eyes on my mum, taking in the shocked look on her face; her eyes are sparkling proudly and there's a lopsided grin flashing across her glamorous face.</p><p>I smile warmly at her and tug on Harry's hand in mine before letting go to hug my mum. I wrap my arms around her small body and rest my head on her hard shoulder. "I love you, mum," I whisper too quietly into her neck.</p><p>"I love you, my love."</p><p>My entire body shivers from head to toe, I almost tremble as I wrap my arms tighter around her. It'd been so long since I last heard those words. So long since I felt she meant them.</p><p>"Are you sure it's okay for me to leave? Will you be alright?" I ask with worry as I pull back, breaking the hug but keeping my arms around her waist.</p><p>A kind smile flashes across her face. "Honey, I have Lottie, and Fizzy, even the twins. I'll miss you terribly—we all will—but we'll be fine. You'll visit us, right? After all, it's not that far."</p><p>"I'll visit, mum. Promise."</p><p>Harry's fingers curl around my waist again and pull me back slowly, crushing me against his soft chest. His scent fills my nostrils, and the butterflies thrive excitedly.</p><p>"Let's go, yeah?" I murmur as I turn and tilt my head to look at him.</p><p>He nods to me with a small smile before taking his hand in mine.</p><p>"Bye, mum! See you tomorrow after school," I shout as we walk to the door.</p><p>"Don't sleep late, and don't sleep in!" she responds, but her voice is interrupted by the low thud of the closing door.</p><p>A chilling breeze sweeps through me when we step out of the house. Harry rubs his hand together and then brings them to his mouth; he blows hot air inside them and then rubs them quickly again.</p><p>"I will never understand why it's so cold in April," he mutters and twists his fingers around mine again.</p><p>We walk to his car with big steps, annoyed by the wild wind swirling around us.</p><p>"You should be used to it by now," I reply after a beat with a smile and he rolls his eyes playfully.</p><p>We reach the silver car and he fumbles for his keys in his jeans' pockets. It's when he finds the key and unlocks the car that I see a very familiar figure at the end of the road, about thirty yards away. Her blonde hair is dancing along with the freezing breeze, her pink shoes clicking against the pavement as she jumps playfully around. There are two tall women standing next to her, watching her move carelessly with small smiles on their beautiful faces.</p><p>Melissa locks eyes with me as she whirls around in a joyful spin, and she stops moving instantly. The corners of her mouth lift a bit, and she raises a hand to wave at me.</p><p>I wave back, feeling my cheeks aching from my big smile.</p><p>Her eyes flicker to Harry and widen in surprise and excitement. She got it, she knows. She remembers.</p><p>"Who's this?" Harry's velvet voice murmurs next to me.</p><p>I turn my head and smile warmly at him before stretching up on my toes and kissing his lips softly. The corners of his mouth curl up against mine and my stomach flutters happily, sending a quiet hum up my throat. Harry's hand moves to my waist and holds it tightly, his thumb caressing my covered skin.</p><p>"Do you know that boy, Meli?" a female, loud and steady voice asks, and the soft, distant sound finds my ears.</p><p>"Yes," Melissa's voice responds. "He's my friend."</p><p>I pull back from Harry's lips and smile softly at Melissa's sweet words.</p><p>"You know her? The little girl?" Harry asks as he leans down to bury his head into the curve of my neck. He caresses my jawline with his nose.</p><p>"Yes," I reply and raise my hand to bury them into his hair. "She's my friend."</p><p>He smiles a small smile against my skin and then opens the door of the car behind me. I walk to the passenger door and open it slowly, my eyes landing on Melissa for one last time.</p><p>She eyes me with glowing eyes and shrugs playfully at the fact that she was right; she's been right all along.</p><p>"Told you," she mouths with no sound and I chuckle with a disappointed shake of my head.</p><p>If she wasn't that young, I'd flip her off.</p><p>I climb into the car and close the heavy door with a thump.</p><p>"Didn't know you seduced young girls, too," Harry comments with a lopsided grin.</p><p>I roll my eyes and giggle quietly. "She's just... She helped me a lot...once."</p><p>Harry stays still, looking at me for a long moment before turning the roaring engine on and pulling into the road.</p><p>I reach out and place my hand on his thigh as I usually do. After a while, his one hand lets go of the steering wheel and finds mine in his lap.</p><p>**</p><p>"Here," Harry mumbles with a full mouth and hands me the half-eaten piece of cake.</p><p>I place it carefully into my hand and take a bite. Carrot, sugar, vanilla. The scents fill my mouth and warm up my palate. "Mmm," I murmur delighted and he nods in agreement.</p><p>"Isn't it good? Grandma makes it. It's her brand."</p><p>"It's really good," I agree and take another bite of the carrot cake in my palm.</p><p>"So, what are you gonna do now?" Anne asks anxiously with her familiar, high-pitched voice.</p><p>I turn to her, the yellow light of the kitchen brightening her stunning face.</p><p>I shrug, sighing nervously. "We have to find an apartment, I guess," I respond thoughtfully.</p><p>"I can do that," Harry offers next to me. "Doesn't dad know this guy who rents flats all over the UK?"</p><p>Anne's face relaxes a bit. "Benjamin. Yes, I guess he could help us. Maybe you could even buy one."</p><p>Buy?!</p><p>"Mum, don't rush," Harry replies in a soft tone. "That...will be nice, for when we're ready. For now let's just rent an apartment, okay? One step at a time."</p><p>I almost sigh in relief at his comforting words.</p><p>I slip a hand under the kitchen table and place it on Harry's thigh; I tug, thanking him.</p><p>He smiles a small smile without looking at me; someone who didn't know would think he's just smiling to himself. He raises his leg a bit, pressing against my palm, acknowledging the gesture.</p><p>"I'll talk to your dad about it when he gets back," Anne's anxious voice says, and I take my eyes off Harry to look at her. She looks excited—too excited—way more excited than I and Harry are.</p><p>Not that <em>I </em>am not happy about it. When I applied to the University a month ago, Harry said that our Universities—he had already been accepted in his—were close, so we could live together. I agreed carelessly at once; the thought only hit me when I had to tell my mum. It created a fluttering feeling in the bottom of my stomach, but I couldn't ignore the lump in my throat. The sensation was both unsettling and exciting.</p><p>Mum was thrilled. She said that she'd feel better if she knew I wasn't completely alone in a place so far away from home and, since she <em>likes Harry so much</em>, she found the idea very much appealing.</p><p>Harry knows. He—as always—hates making me feel uneasy and stressed, so he barely ever brings it up. That's better because, even if I'm working on it, I still don't really enjoy talking about my troubles. "Clifford will be so happy and thrilled," he says whenever the anxious look takes over my face.</p><p>I know it will be fine, after all, because Harry will be with me. I could be with him in hell, and all I would notice would be the way the fire makes the green of his eyes shine brighter.</p><p>"Hey," Harry elbows me softly. "Wanna watch a movie?"</p><p>I smile. "Yes, that sounds great."</p><p>"Good. Mum, we'll be in my room." He takes my hand and drags me toward the stairs, almost jogging, as if we're running out of time.</p><p>"Everything okay?" I ask when we reach the door of his room.</p><p>"Everything is great," he replies quietly and presses a hot kiss on my lips as he pulls the doorknob down. "What do you wanna watch? Please not an action movie like last time. I almost fell asleep."</p><p>"You <em>did </em>fall asleep, Harry," I remind him with a loud voice. I will never stop teasing him about it. "The earth was opening up, people were <em>dying</em>, and you were calmly snoring next to me."</p><p>"I don't <em>snore</em>!" he protests with a smile and climbs onto his bed. He reaches for his laptop and takes it into his lap.</p><p>"You so do."</p><p>I take my shoes off, then my shirt, and lie on the bed next to him. As I run my hand through my messy hair, I can't help but wonder when was the last time that this was or felt abnormal. I can't; I have to go extremely back, five months ago, when the only thing me and Harry did was sleep together. Time changes so fast. Right now, this is my reality, my everyday life, my routine.</p><p>"We'll watch a rom-com," Harry announces happily and scoots to lie next to me, our backs against the headboard.</p><p>"No!" I cry dramatically, hiding my face into my hands in disappointment.</p><p>"Yes," he demands. "Compromise, Louis. That's what people who are in relationships are supposed to do."</p><p>"People in relationships are supposed to have fun!" I shout, but it's impossible to hide my silly smile.</p><p>"Exactly. That's what we are doing."</p><p>"Sure, what are we watching? Notting Hill? Pretty Woman?"</p><p>A perfect smile flashes across his face. "Remember Pretty Woman?" he asks, smirking.</p><p>I frown, trying to remember what he's so happy thinking about.</p><p>"Lou?" he adds with a wider smirk, and I almost jump up.</p><p>"Yes! No! Don't call me that. No, ew!" I shout playfully, raising my eyebrows.</p><p>"Sure...," he mumbles, "...Lou."</p><p>"Harry!"</p><p>"Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou."</p><p>"You're such a child," I say and shake my head disappointedly.</p><p>"You love me," he replies quickly, catching me off guard.</p><p>"Do I?"</p><p>"Oh, you do."</p><p>I take the laptop off his lap and carefully climb on top of him, my hands on his shoulders, my thighs on his sides.</p><p>"Shut up," I say.</p><p>"Why?" he asks with a tiny smile. I can feel the tension in the room changing.</p><p>The pit of my stomach burns. "Because if you don't, I'll kiss you," I breathe against his smooth cheek.</p><p>The smiles tightens. "Lou. Lou, Lou, Lou."</p><p>I hold my chuckle back, because I want to kiss him so bad that if I waste two more seconds I will certainly explode.</p><p>I bring one of my hands to his face and press the top of my thumb against his cheekbone, lifting his head up slightly.</p><p>"I do," I mumble inches away from his mouth. "I do love you, baby."</p><p>I lean down and kiss him softly at first, then with so passion that it could set the entire house on fire.</p><p>I'm pretty sure I wouldn't even notice.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. The Happy Ever After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">three months later.</span>
</p><p>I tap lightly on the bathroom's closed door. "You ready?"</p><p>"Yes, yes!" Harry shouts anxiously and the door flies open violently. Harry steps out of the misty bathroom, his hands holding a pair of dark blue jeans tightly against his bare legs, pushing them up in a hurry. "I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready!"</p><p>"Baby, we have time. There are like"—I check my phone—"twenty-five minutes left."</p><p>"Shh," he hushes me. "I'm fine. Ready."</p><p>I look at his now fully dressed body, covered by his usual, casual clothes—dark blue jeans and a grey t-shirt—and examine the way it sparks more blissfully with every quick move he makes. I love him. I love him so much that I could burst from it.</p><p>I reach out and grab the bottom of his shirt, pulling him closer. His body collided with mine and a surprised expression flashes across his bonny face.</p><p>He looks at me, a sly smile twisting his lips up. "Louis, you can't fuck me again, we don't have enough time," he mumbles, but the silly smile on his face gives the fact that he's only kidding away.</p><p>"You're so needy," I breathe with a shaky chuckle and stretch up on my toes.</p><p>I want to do nothing but kiss him. Kiss him until every star in the sky vanishes and turns into stardust.</p><p>I wrap my cold fingers around his neck and lick my lips. I lift my chin and touch his mouth with mine, savouring the sound his lips make when they part under my warm tongue. He hums pleased, pressing his fingers against my waist as if he wishes he never had to let go.</p><p>I wish he didn't, either.</p><p>"The s-"</p><p>"Oh shut up, Harry. We have time," I stop him and continue to kiss him slowly.</p><p>There's something mesmerising in Harry's kiss; a sweet lust, a never-exhausted passion that awakens me and gives me life. I could kiss him forever, only stop to breathe oxygen—a biological and only necessity—and as he slips his tongue along my palate I can only wish it was possible. A life without Harry is nothing, and a life with Harry is everything at once.</p><p>Harry gasps, panting, and takes his mouth off mine. His hard length strokes my inner thigh.</p><p>"Sorry," I apologise and fall onto my heels.</p><p>"Don't apologise, baby," he pants. "I'd love to do that but we're running out of time and-"</p><p>"Enough with the time thing, Harry," I groan angrily, but there's a smile on my face. "Here"—I dangle my phone in front of his face—"Eight fifteen. Not even eight twenty-five."</p><p>"I just really want you to see it!" he exclaims and starts walking toward the stairs.</p><p>The Styles holiday home is not as small as one would guess or wish it was. It has four flats—fully decorated and perfectly designed to match the nature outside the windows—two kitchens and seven bathrooms, three of them including a jacuzzi, while the rest have only a bathtub. It's mostly made of wood, its style and aesthetic making it feel like it perfectly and fairly belongs to the gorgeous landscape surrounding it. It's neither spoiled nor rich—rather welcoming and comfy; its simple and easy atmosphere helps you easily feel at home.</p><p>When Anne announced that they were going and invited me and Fizzy to go with them, my sister was so thrilled and happy that I couldn't even consider denying it. Harry would be there, and there's only a month left until University, so why not? It's been one week since we came, and everything is great.</p><p>As we run down the stairs, beautiful scents of freshly cooked food fill my nostrils, and my stomach growls impatiently.</p><p>"Could we at least eat something before we go?" I beg, feeling my feet dragging me to the kitchen.</p><p>"Louis! No! There's no time," Hary whines, not even turning his head to look at me as he starts jogging to the door.</p><p>I'll punch him. I will.</p><p>"Harry! Are you leaving already?" Anne's voice yells from the kitchen.</p><p>"Yes," Harry shouts and grabs the doorknob.</p><p>"Don't you want to eat something? Louis? Aren't you hungry, honey?" Anne continues and steps out of the kitchen.</p><p>I glare at Harry with narrowed eyes that would kill him if they could.</p><p>"Fiiine," he groans. "But you have five minutes."</p><p>Anne and I roll our eyes at the same time, and then the three of us start walking toward the kitchen. Clifford bark excitedly when he sees us, getting up from his yellow rug on the floor and running toward us with happy, enormous steps. He's almost double the size from when I first saw him.</p><p>"Excuse him, dear," Anne says with a sweet smile. "This has been his favourite thing since he was only a tiny little thing."</p><p>"I don't mind," I mumble and glance over at Harry where he's leaning against the wall next to me. He smiles a little, his eyes sparkling. "I just want to eat."</p><p>Harry sits next to me and grabs a piece of pizza himself, too, ignoring my teasy remarks about his pride. He finds my hand under the table and takes it in his, our linked fingers a soft fist into his lap; he always does this—anywhere we are—and it's actually starting to become a habit that makes my stomach flutter warmly.</p><p>It's a bit hard for both of us to eat with only one hand, but I don't even consider letting go, and I think neither does he.</p><p>Ten minutes later, we step out of the house and into the cold, summer breeze. I zip my jacket.</p><p>"Follow me," Harry orders and I do as told, starting to walk behind him with big steps.</p><p>There are crickets singing, filling the quiet around, and as we move to the back yard and Harry opens the door of a small, wooden garden shed I hear an owl growling in the distance.</p><p>Harry comes out of the little wooden house with an aluminum staircase in his hand; the stairs are folded in three, and it seems that they reach really, really high if you unfold them.</p><p>"Please tell me we aren't climbing to the roof," I beg him, hugging my torso tightly to warm up.</p><p>"Yes, we are," Harry announces eagerly and walks past me, heading to the front yard again.</p><p>"Aren't there stairs <em>inside</em> the house? Do we have to risk our lives?" I complain annoyed but still follow him through the dim night.</p><p>"We're doing this the traditional way," he explains as he rounds a corner, unfolds the staircase, and sets it against the tall, white wall. He raises a foot and steps on a step hardly, just to make sure it's steady.</p><p>We are going to die.</p><p>"The traditional way?" I repeat after him. "You mean when actual, <em>safe </em>stairs weren't a thing, right? So let me guess, seven thousand years ago?"</p><p>"Stop being a drama queen," he huffs. "It's gonna be great. Now, I'll go first, you follow after me when I reach the seventh or eighth step, okay? The staircase is strong, but be careful because the steps might be slippery because of the humidity. Got it?"</p><p>"If we don't die, remind me to kill you," I say flatly.</p><p>He giggles and cocks his head. "Do you still love me?"</p><p>"Yes," I chuckle. "Yes, I do love you still. Now go."</p><p>He smiles and leaves a rapid kiss on my cold lips before spinning around and starting to climb up the stairs.</p><p>Dear God, if we die, please know that this was Harry's idea. I have no responsibility or control over his naive actions. He can go to hell. I have been a good boy all along. Except for the cursing. Sorry for that. I'll fix it and work on it, just give me the chance.</p><p>Harry's foot lands on the eighth step so I grow a pair and take a huge, hopeful breath before reaching out and stepping on the hard, thick step in front of me.</p><p>Climbing is easier than I imagined. The steps are indeed steady and flat against my shoelaces. The staircase is bent in a way that makes it easier to balance your weight as you walk up the steps that creak and whine under the pressure.</p><p>"Are you afraid of heights?" Harry's voice is barely panting. He reaches the roof and hops off the staircase.</p><p>"W-what?" I ask, stuttering. "No. Of course, not." Three steps left.</p><p>"You're afraid of heights!" he claps excitedly his hands.</p><p>"Shut up," I hiss as I try to control the trembling in my legs when I realise I've reached the top.</p><p>"You're shaking, babe," Harry notices with a dumb smile. "Here, let me help you."</p><p>I consider denying it, but then my eyes fall on the green ground underneath our feet and I almost whine at how far it seems to be, so the thought disappears immediately, shook off by Harry's warm hand on my waist. He keeps me steady as I lift my right leg and carefully climb off the aluminium stairs underneath me.</p><p>"Yay," Harry celebrates quietly, and if I didn't know him so well I'd think he's being sarcastic.</p><p>The first thing my eyes land on is a dark purple blanket lying on the grey floor five feet away from us; there are two pillows on each side and two little, burning candles next to them, shining so brightly that I can't help wonder how it is that I don't see more clearly.</p><p>"You're so cheesy, Harry Styles," I mumble surprised, and let go of his hand to move forward, my heart still racing.</p><p>I can't believe that he climbed up those shitty stairs with so many things in his hands—probably more than once—so he could set this up for me. For me? For us.</p><p>"It's really pretty, baby," I comment, spinning around to face him.</p><p>He smiles, pleased. "Yeah? Isn't it <em>too cheesy</em> for you?" he repeats my words as he reaches for my hand and starts walking toward the blanket.</p><p>I chuckle. "Are you implying I'm not romantic?"</p><p>He sits down on the purple blanket, his small smile bright, and when he doesn't reply I lift my head to look at the sky for the first time tonight. There are thousands, millions, billions of stars shining like worn-out torches on the black, endless surface of the sky above us. The mage is so dark but so bright at the same time; the stars sparkle in a way that makes you think that the darkness is only in your head, but when you zoom out and notice the endearing blackness covering every bit of the marvellous sky, the beaming light of the stars feels like it's not enough to hide the dark. It's crystal-clear; this is the most exquisite thing in the world. I've never seen anything like it.</p><p>"I know," Harry mumbles, noticing the surprised look on my face.</p><p>I drag my eyes away from the sky and walk to sit next to him on the soft blanket. "Does it look like that every year?"</p><p>He nods. "Yeah. Some years even brighter. But it's always so..."</p><p>"Yeah," I agree. "And you get to see that every summer?"</p><p>He falls back, his head thudding softly when it lands on the yellow pillow. I lay with him, my eyes never leaving the mesmerising sky.</p><p>"It's only for two hours, one day, once a year. It's special, Louis. And you can see it clearly only from here. That's why no one else knows about it. That's why I wanted you to see."</p><p>I nod once and roll back my eyes in an attempt to see more of the sky. It looks like there's always more of it; more stars, more light, more darkness.</p><p>"You were right, it's so beautiful. It's mesmerising. Thank you," I confess and feel my cheeks flaming.</p><p>He cackles at my embarrassment and pulls me closer to him. I giggle, my cheeks reddening more.</p><p>"Why isn't your family watching with us? You said it's a family thing," I question on his chest.</p><p>"They don't come up here with me every year. They might get out for five minutes to take a look, or just stare at it from the window. They get bored of it," he replies, and his voice is a velvet murmur right next to my ear.</p><p>"Bored of <em>this</em>?" I sit up and look at his face. "How could anyone get bored of this, ever?"</p><p>He snorts with a small shrug. His eyes still manage to sparkle brighter than the stars, even tonight. "See? I knew you'd understand. Now I don't have to come up here all alone every year."</p><p>"I'm sorry you waited for so long."</p><p>"You were worth every second of it."</p><p>I lean down and put my head on his chest again. I close my eyes. Harry's heart thuds evenly under my ear. It's a steady, loud rhythm that rhymes with his breathing and makes every feeling inside me stronger.</p><p>"I have waited for this since the second time I came to the library. Do you remember? When I saw your sketch of that boy and the tree. That's when I knew."</p><p>"You were about to leave," the corners of my mouth curl up into a small smile as the memory plays in my head.</p><p>"And you said you didn't mind me staying."</p><p>"I wanted you to stay so bad."</p><p>He chuckles, a soft melody in my ear. "You told me."</p><p>"Really?" I ask and lift my head to look at his face. I place it on my hand and use my elbow to steady my arm on the blanket.</p><p>"Yeah," he breathes, his eyes on me but his gaze far, far away from where we are.</p><p>I roll onto my back and take his hand in mine. The stars sparkle one after the other before my eyes, a sweet glimpse of hope, freedom, happiness. I blink rapidly, but the exquisite view seems to actually be real.</p><p>"Look," Harry says and raises our linked hands in the air. "That's the Great Square of Pegasus, and that's Jaws and Napoleon's Hat." He moves our twisted fists in front of my eyes, pointing at familiar asterisms that seem to shape the second he calls their name. Sooner or later, the sky above us feels clearer and organised.</p><p>"I prefer it messy," I say with a crooked smile and move my eyes to look at him.</p><p>He chuckles, his dimples finding their way out. "I figured."</p><p>I sigh heavily and focus on his low breathing that synchronises with the loud tweeting of the crickets. I can't tell how much time passes, it's impossible, I've completely lost track of time.</p><p>"Louis, I...," Harry mutters after a beat. "I need to tell you something."</p><p>I frown, my heart starts beating a little bit faster. "What is it?"</p><p>He sighs and sits up, crossing his legs and letting his hands fall into his lap. I stand up with him, sitting right across him, facing his troubled face.</p><p>"What happened?" I wonder, worried.</p><p>He fixes his heavy eyes on me and seems to hesitate a bit. "When... The first, first night, at the party, when you were drunk and didn't remember a thing the next morning, you...um..."</p><p>"Harry, tell me."</p><p>He sighs heavily. "I got beer all over my shirt and went upstairs to change. Niall's t-shirts are too big for me, so I asked Greg to give me one; that's why I was in his room. The door opened and you came in, and you looked terrible, Louis, you looked...<em>drunk </em>and...and miserable. You didn't say anything, you just sat on the bed next to me and stared at the wall. I gave up putting the shirt on, I was too surprised by you. It was silent at first. I wasn't uncomfortable, it was nice, just like it always is with you. And then... Then you whispered something about a safe place that was too low for me to hear and I would have asked you to repeat it but you...you started crying, Louis. You started droning on about running away and your mum and the twins and I was so caught off guard because you were a stranger and I had no idea what to do. I listened. You cried for ten minutes—maybe even fifteen—and you never stop talking. When you realised what was happening you stopped and looked at me and-"</p><p>"And you kissed me," I finish his sentence, my voice a shocked whisper. The pictures flicker in my mind one after another. "When I came to your house to take Fizzy's jacket and you asked if I wanted to talk about it..."</p><p>"I meant the crying. And you snapped and said you didn't but as the time passed I realised that you didn't remember that part. I heard you and Fizzy talking in the car about your mum, I saw the bruises. It was a puzzle, but I had the pieces. And it's okay if you still don't want to tell me but I understand, Louis. I know how it feels to watch your life falling apart. And I <em>am</em> sorry. You didn't deserve any of it."</p><p>I wipe the small tear off his cheek with my thumb and lean in to kiss the wet skin. He sniffles and presses his warm forehead against mine softly.</p><p>I tell him everything. I tell him about Troy and Mark and my mum and everything that I recall. I tear up but don't let the tears out, too scared he'll ask me to stop. For the first time, I <em>want</em> to say it all. He's Harry—<em>my</em> Harry—and I'm Harry's Louis, and there's nothing more important to me than this. I can tell him. So I do. The words are sort of heavy and pinch my throat on their way out, but they dissolve into the light breeze and set me free. <em>Free</em>.</p><p>When I close my mouth—sure enough there isn't anything else to say—my chest feels lighter.</p><p>Harry changes the subject after a while. "Uni," he sighs with a relieved smile.</p><p>I groan. "Please don't be a pain in the ass."</p><p>He cackles, pinching my sides with our still linked fingers. "Why? Are you scared, roomie?"</p><p>I roll my eyes and glare at the sky above us. The stars have started to vanish, grey night clouds are taking over the dark surface. It's almost over.</p><p>"We'll see it again next year," Harry says, reading my mind.</p><p>I smile. "Yeah. And then next year, and next year."</p><p>He tugs on my hand and brings it to his mouth. His lips plant a kiss on my cold thumb.</p><p>"I love you, Harry."</p><p>"I love you, Louis."</p><p>"Can we stay some more?" I beg.</p><p>"We can stay as long as you want."</p><p>So we do. He pulls me closer and I wrap my legs around his, holding on to him. A shield. A home.</p><p>Lying on a roof in the middle of August and staring at the stars while holding his hand.</p>
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